LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 


PRESENTED  BY 

Mr.    H.    H.    Kil iani 


UCSB  LIBRARY 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/atliomeabroadfirsOOtayliala 


sgiiV,  ANiD)  A\ 


'^'l/J 


MJ^fAWJU)  TAXILOm 


ITie  WaTttiirvJuriear  Eissr.a'di 


EIDoraOo  jedition 


THE  WORKS 


OF 


BAYARD    TAYLOR 


VOLUME  VI 


AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD 

FIRST   SERIES 


AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD 

SECOND   SERIES 


<f 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK  LONDON 

27   WBST  TWENTV-THIRD   STREET  34    BEDFORD  STREET,  STRAND 

g^t  ^nitkwbocktr  ^WS8 


AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD 

A  SKETCH-BOOK  OF 

LIFE,  SCENERY   AND    MEN 


BAYARD  TAYLOR 


FIRST  SERIES 


author's  revised  edition 


Entered  aooording  to  Act  of  Oongreas,  in  the  year  iSSft,  by 

a.  P.  PUTNAM, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Soatbem 

District  of  New  York. 

COPYHIGHT,  1891, 

Bt  marie  TAYLOR. 


PREFACE. 


In  this  volume  I  have  collected  together  the  varioua 
detached  sketches  of  men  and  things,  and  the  records  of 
short  excursions,  or  episodes  of  travel,  for  which  th^re 
was  no  appropriate  place  in  the  narratives  already 
published.  Most  of  thom  have  appeared,  at  intervals, 
aunng  the  pa.si  eight  years — ^have,  perhaps,  Deen  long 
since  read  and  forgotten  by  many  of  my  readers ;  yet 
I  trust  that  there  are  few,  the  subjects  of  which  are  not 
in  themselves  of  sufficient  interest  to  justify  me  in  thus 
reproducing  them.  At  least  they  have  the  advantage  of 
fariety,  and  the  volume,  like  the  sketch-book  of  an 
artist,  has  figures  for  those  who  do  not  appreciate  land- 
■capes,  matter-of-fact  for  those  who  dislike  sentiment, 
and  a  close  adherence  to  Nature  as  a  compensation  for 
any  lack  of  grace  in  the  execution.  It  is  a  record  of 
actual  experiences,  and  aims  at  no  higher  merit  than  the 
utmost  fidelity. 

BAYABD  TATLO& 
tfav  ToKK.  Amgmm  4,  IML 


CONTENTS 


The  flnt  Journey  I  ever  made^        . 
A  Night  Walk,       .... 
Pirat  DiflBculties  with  Foreign  Tongues, 
A.  Yoiuig  Author's  Life  in  London, . 

The  Atlantic, 

Rambles  in  Warwickshire, 

A  Walk  from  Heidelberg  to  Nuremberg — Part  L, 

A.  Walk  from  Heidelberg  to  Nuremberg — Part  IL, 

Panorama  of  the  Upper  Danube, 

The  Road  from  Vienna  to  Trieste,    . 

Smyrna,  and  the  Grecian  Arch'pelago, 

A  Walk  through  the  Thiiringian  Forest, 

My  Supernatural  Experieucea, 

More  of  the  Supernatural, 

A  November  Trip  Northwards, 

The  Mammoth  Cave — Part  L, 

The  Mammoth  Cave — Part  II , 

The  Mammoth  Cave — Part  II L, 

Mackinaw,  and  the  Lakes, 

S.  Telegraphic  Trip  to  Newfoundland-  -Part  L 

A  Telegraphic  Trip  to  Newfoundi'and — Part  II., 

A  Telegraphic  Trip  to  Newfoundland — Pan  HL, 


PAGE 

1 

14 

24 

35 

46 

61 

66 

76 

88 

102 

113 

128 

140 

163 

166 

180 

190 

304 

926 

238 

269 

164 


▼1 


COffTENTU. 


i  Telegraphic  Trip  K  Newfoundland — Part  IV 

A.  Telegraphic  Trip  to  Newfoundhuid — Part  Y^ 

Lfolidajs  in  Svrilzorland  and  Italy,  . 

A  German  Home,    .... 

fiife  in  the  Thiiringian  Forest, . 

Interviews  with  German  Authors, 

Alexander  Von  Humbold' 

Summer  G'>ssip  from  England, 

The  Castles  of  the  Gleichen,    . 

Weimar,  and  its  Dead,    . 

A.  German  Idyl,      .... 

The  Three  Hundredth  Anniversary  of  the  UoiTeraity  ol  Jona^ 

8ome  EngUnh  Ce'ebrit'es, 

Scenes  at  a  Targ'^t-Shooting,  . 

Aspects  of  German  Society,     . 

A  True  Story,         .... 

The  Landscapes  of  the  World, 

Prefereoces,  after  Seeing  the  World, 


rAsi 

280 

293 
804 
818 
826 
838 
361 
366 
3Y4 
387 
399 
410 
4S6 
447 
468 
469 
481 
MM 


AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 


I. 

THE  FIRST  JOURKEY   I  EVER  MADE 


My  friend,  Ida  Pfeiffer,  relates,  in  the  preface  to  one  ol 
her  volumes,  that  the  desire  for  travel  was  with  her  an 
inborn  propensity.  When  a  little  girl,  she  was  accustomed 
to  watch  the  mail-coach  as  it  whirled  daily  through  her  na- 
tive valley ;  and  when  it  had  crossed  the  verge  of  the  hi]] 
which  bounded  her  childish  world,  she  would  frequently 
weep,  because  she  could  not  follow  it  and  visit  the  unknown 
regions  beyond.  In  looking  back  to  my  childhood,  I  can 
recall  no  such  instinct  of  perambulation ;  but  on  the  con- 
trary, the  intensest  desire  to  climb  upward — so  that  with 
out  shifting  the  circle  of  my  horizon,  I  could  yet  extend  it 
and  take  in  a  far  wider  sweep  of  vision.  I  envied  every 
bird  that  sat  swinging  upon  the  topmost  bough  of  the 
great,  century-old  cherry  tree ;  the  weather-cock  on  our 
bam  seemed  to  me  to  whirj  in  a  higher  region  of  the  air 


2  AT     HOME     AND     ABROAD, 

and  to  rise  from  the  earth  in  a  balloon,  was  a  bliss  which  1 
would  almost  have  given  my  life  to  enjoy.  Perhaps  the 
root  of  the  instinct  was  the  same  in  both  cases ;  but  Ma 
lame  Pfeiflfer's  desires  shot  off  in  a  horizontal  direction, 
while  mine  went  up  perpendicularly. 

I  remember,  as  distinctly  as  if  it  were  yesterday,  the  first 
time  this  passion  was  gratified.  Looking  out  of  the  gar. 
ret  window,  on  a  bright  May  morning,  I  discovered  a  row 
of  slats  which  had  been  nailed  over  the  shingles  for  the 
convenience  of  the  carpenters,  in  roofing  the  house,  and 
had  not  been  removed.  Here  was,  at  last,  a  chance  to 
reach  the  comb  of  the  steep  roof,  and  take  my  nrst  look 
abroad  into  the  world!  Not  without  some  trepidation  I 
ventured  out,  and  was  soon  seated  astride  of  the  sharp  ridge. 
Unknown  forests,  new  fields  and  houses  appeared  to  my 
triumphant  view.  The  prospect,  though  it  did  not  extend 
more  than  four  miles  in  any  direction,  was  boundless.  Away 
in  the  northwest,  glimmering  through  the  trees,  was  a  white 
object — probably  the  front  of  a  distant  barn  ;  but  I  shouted 
to  the  astonished  servant-^rl,  who  had  just  discovered  me 
from  the  garden  below :  "  I  see  the  Falls  of  Niagara '" 

With  increase  of  knowledge,  this  instinct  took  the  definite 
form  of  a  longing  to  see  and  to  climb  a  mountain.  My 
nurse  was  an  old  Swiss  woman,  in  the  background  of  whose 
stories  stood  the  eternal  Alps ;  some  few  of  the  neighbors 
had  seen  the  Blue  Ridge  (the  members  of  our  community 
generally,  were  as  thoroughly  attached  t«  the  soil  as  the 
Russian  serfs)  and  in  our  native  region  of  softly-rounded 
hills  and  small  intervening  valleys — a  lovely  reproduction 
of  English    Warwickshire — the  description  of  a  mountain, 


TBii.  FLBSl    JOUUNISI    i  JEVKB  MADB.  3 

mantled  with  pine,  faced  with  sheer  precipices,  and  streaked 
with  summer  snow,  seemed  to  be  a  fable,  a  miracle,  an 
impossibility.  So  I  determined — since  it  was  difficult  to 
ascend  much  above  the  top  of  the  house  at  home — ^that  my 
first  journey  should  be  in  the  direction  of  a  mountain. 

It  was  not  so  easy,  however,  to  carry  this  plan  into  exo- 
cation.  A  farmer's  son — ^tempted  on  the  one  hand  by 
books,  knives,  and  breastpins,  and  on  the  other,  by  circuses, 
menageries,  phrenological  lectures,  pea-nuts,  and  ice-cream 
— can  rarely  save  enough  from  the  sale  of  his  rabbit-skins, 
walnuts,  and  sumac  leaves,  or  even  from  his  own  cherished 
pig — the  "  runt"  of  the  litter — ^to  commence  any  serious 
undertaking.  My  private  means  were  chiefly  derived  from 
these  sources,  and  every  succeeding  spring  I  found  myself 
in  the  condition  of  the  United  States  Post-Office  Depart- 
ment, in  the  year  1859.  But  when  my  seventeenth  May 
came  around,  and  I  was  formally  apprenticed  to  the  print- 
ing business,  one  stipulation  in  the  paper  of  indenture 
opened  an  unexpected  way  for  me.  It  was  arranged  that 
I  should  receive  forty  dollars  a  year  for  the  purchase  of  my 
clothing,  and  as  I  entered  on  my  apprenticeship  with  ♦» 
tolerable  supply,  I  at  once  saw  the  possibility  of  saving 
enough  out  of  my  first  year's  allowance  to  enable  me  to 
reach  the  nearest  mountain. 

The  plan  succeeded  well.  At  the  termination  of  the 
year,  I  found  myself  in  possession  of  the  enormous  sum  of 
fifteen  dollars.  But  my  ideas  and  desires  had  in  the  mean 
time  expanded,  and  the  amount  of  capital  secured  appeared 
sufficient  to  warrant  me  in  undertaking  a  much  more  exten- 
•ivo  journey  than  I  had  oiiginally  intended.     New  York, 


4  AT   HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

tbe  Highl^ids,  the  Catskills,  Berkshire,  and  the  Connecti 
cut  Valley!  Of  course,  the  tour  must  be  accomplished 
mostly  on  foot ;  and  I  confess  I  counted  a  little  upon  the 
Hospitality  of  the  country-people  for  a  meal  or  a  bed,  if  my 
purse  should  get  very  low.  A  fellow-apprentice,  of  ample 
ii.eaus  (I  believe  he  had  twenty-seven  dollars),  agreed  to 
bear  me  company;  and  about  the  middle  of  May,  1848, 
the  necessary  holiday  was  obtained  from  our  employer. 
My  scanty  baggage  was  contained  in  a  soldier's  knapsack, 
borrowed  from  a  private  of  the  "National  Grays" — the 
sole  militia  company  in  the  place — and  the  gilded  letters 
"  N.  G."  upon  the  back  proved  afterwards  to  be  a  source 
of  curiosity  to  the  public — many  persons,  supposing  me  to 
be  an  itinerant  peddler,  taking  them  to  mean  "New 
Goods."  My  money  was  entirely  in  quarter-dollars,  as  the 
United  States  Bank  was  no  more;  and  such  things  as 
drafts,  exchange  brokers,  etc.,  were  unknown  to  me. 

My  companion,  on  account  of  his  extensive  means,  deter- 
mined to  travel  by  railroad  to  New  York,  while  I,  who 
was  obliged  to  foot  it  across  the  sands  of  New  Jersey, 
started  a  day  in  advance,  the  rendezvous  being  a  small 
soda  water  shop  in  John  street,  kept  by  a  mutual  acquaint- 
ance. The  steamboat  from  Philadelphia  deposited  me  at 
Bordentown,  on  the  forenoon  of  a  warm,  clear  day.  1 
buckled  on  my  knapsack,  inquired  the  road  to  Amboy,  and 
struck  off,  resolutely,  with  the  feelings  of  an  explorer  ou 
the  threshold  of  great  discoveries.  The  sun  shone  brightly, 
the  woods  were  green,  and  the  meadows  were  gay  with 
phlox  and  buttercups.  Walking  was  the  natural  impulse 
of  the  muscles;  and  the  glorious  visions  which  the  next 


THE  MBSX  JOURNEY   I  EVEB  MABB.  I 

few  days  would  unfold  to  me^  drew  me  onward  with  a 
powerful  fascination.  Thus,  mile  after  mile  went  by;  and 
early  in  the  afternoon  I  reached  Hightstown,  very  hot  and 
hungry,  and  a  little  footsore.  Twenty-five  cents  only  had 
been  expended,  thus  far — and  was  I  now  to  dine  for  half  a 
dollar?  The  thought  was  banished  as  rapidly  as  it  came, 
and  six  cakes,  of  remarkable  toughness  and  heaviness,  put 
an  effbctual  stop  to  any  further  promptings  of  appetite 
tliat  day. 

The  miles  now  became  longer,  and  the  rosy  color  of  my 
anticipations  faded  a  little.  The  sandy  level  of  the  country 
fatigued  my  eyes;  the  only  novel  objects  I  had  yet  dis- 
covered were  the  sweep-poles  of  the  wells;  and  though  I 
nodded  to  everybody  I  met,  my  greetings  were  not  always 
cordially  returned.  I  had  been  informed,  you  mupt  know, 
that  in  the  land  of  Jersey  the  inhabitants  were  inclined  to 
be  offended  if  you  did  not  give  them  the  short,  silent  nod, 
which  is  the  ordinary  form  of  country  salutation  in  Ame- 
rica. (People  say  "I  nodded  to  him" — not  "spoke"  or 
'  bowed  ")  The  hot  afternoon  was  drawing  to  a  close,  and 
1  was  wearily  looking  out  for  Spotswood,  when  a  little  inci- 
dent occurred,  the  memory  of  which  has  ever  since  been  as 
refreshing  to  me  as  the  act  in  itself  was  at  that  time. 

I  stopped  to  get  a  drink  from  a  well  in  front  of  a  neat 
little  farm-house.  While  I  was  awkwardly  preparing  to  let 
down  the  bucket,  a  kind,  sweet  voice  suddenly  said :  "  Let 
me  do  it  for  you."  I  looked  up,  and  saw  before  me  a  girl 
|f  sixteen,  with  blue  eyes,  wavy  auburn  hair,  and  slender 
form — not  strikingly  handsome,  l)ut  with  a  shy,  pretty  face 
which  blushed  the  least  bit  in  the  world,  as  .she  met  raj^ 


9  AT  HOMB  AND  ABROAD. 

gaze.  Without  waiting  for  my  answer,  she  seized  the  pole, 
and  soon  drew  up  the  dripping  bucket,  which  she  placed 
upon  the  curb.  "  I  will  get  you  a  glass,"  she  then  said, 
and  darted  into  the  house — reappearing  presently  with  a 
tumbler  in  one  hand  and  a  plate  of  crisp  tea-cakes  in  the 
other.  She  stood  beside  me  while  I  drank,  and  then  ex 
tended  the  plate  with  a  gesture  more  inviting  than  any 
words  would  have  been.  I  had  had  enough  of  cakes  for 
one  day ;  but  I  took  one,  nevertheless,  and  put  a  second  in 
my  pocket,  at  her  kind  persuasion.  This  was  the  first  of 
many  kindnesses  which  I  have  received  from  strangers  all 
over  the  wide  world ;  and  there  are  few,  if  any,  which  I 
shall  remember  longer. 

At  sunset  I  had  walked  twenty-two  miles,  and  had  taken 
to  the  railroad  track  by  way  of  a  change,  when  I  came 
upon  a  freight  train,  which  had  stopped  on  account  of  some 
slight  accident.  "  "Where  are  you  going  ?"  inquired  the  en- 
gineer. "  To  Amboy."  "  Take  you  there  for  a  quarter !" 
It  was  tuo  tempting :  so  I  climbed  upon  the  tender,  and 
rested  my  weary  legs,  while  the  pines  and  drifted  sandp 
flew  by  us  for  an  hour  or  more — and  I  had  crossed  Ncm 
Jersey  I 

There  was  the  ocean !  At  least  I  thought  so,  for  I  heard 
the  dash  of  waves  on  the  beach,  and  the  Neversink  was 
invisible  in  the  faint  mist  and  moonlight.  Listead  of  sup* 
per,  T  took  a  bath — tasted  the  water,  and  foimd  it  bitter 
salt.  There  was  no  doubt  of  it :  I  was  swimming  in  the 
Atlantic.  A  deep  sleep  in  some  tavern  followed;  but, 
hearing  at  daybreak  the  sad  sea-waves  again,  I  was  up,  and 
down  to  the  beach,  hunting  for  shells.     I  expected  to  find 


THE   FIKST   JOURXEY    I   EVER   MADE.  1 

all  the  pearly  and  rosy  marvels  which  I  had  seen  in  oui 
County  Cabinet  of  Natural  Sciences,  profusely  scattered 
along  the  sand,  and  was  greatly  disappointed  to  see  only 
a  few  clams.  This  did  not  prevent  me  from  writing  a 
poem  entitled :  "  The  First  Sight  of  the  Ocean,"  which  I 
thought  a  very  fine  production.  It  never  appeared  in 
Graharn's  Magazine  however  (to  which  I  sent  it),  and  is 
now  totally  lost  to  the  world. 

The  trip  from  Amboy  to  New  York  made  a  great  im- 
pression upon  me.  The  beauty  of  the  shores,  the  breadth 
of  the  bay,  the  movement  of  the  thronging  vessels,  gave 
me  new  and  grand  ideas  of  the  life  of  Man,  and  for  the  first 
time  I  saw  the  place  of  my  nativity,  not  as  a  world  ai'onnd 
which  all  other  interests  revolved,  but  as  an  insignificant 
speck,  the  existence  of  which  was  as  unimportant  as  it  was 
unnoticed.  The  magic  of  that  first  impression  has  never 
been  weakened.  Our  stately  harbor  is  to  me  now,  as  it  was 
then,  a  type  of  the  activity  of  the  age,  and  after  years  of 
wandering  I  never  return  to  it  Avithout  the  old  thrill  of 
admiration — the  old  instinct  that  here,  of  aU  other  places 
in  the  world,  is  the  great  arena  of  labor. 

I  readily  found  the  soda-water  establishment,  and  was 
joined  in  the  afternoon  by  my  companion.  We  went  oui 
for  a  stroll  up  and  down  Broadway.  The  first  thing  we 
noticed  was  a  red  flag,  and  the  voice  of  an  auctioneer  sell 
mg  watches.  "  Oh,"  said  my  friend,  "  here  is  one  of  thost 
places  where  you  can  get  gold  watches  so  cheap.  Let  us 
go  in  I" — and  in  we  went.  Two  or  three  fellows,  with 
heavy  chains  at  their  vests,  were  bidding  upon  a  silrei 
watch.     "Only  two  dollars — going!"  cried  the  auctioneer 


B  AT   HOMB   AKD   A££OAI>. 

"Two  and  a  half!"  eagerly  shouted  my  companion.  Evi 
dently  the  Peter  Funks  wished  to  lead  him  on  gently,  foi 
they  allowed  him  to  get  the  watch  for  four  dollars.  The 
earnestness  and  volubility  of  the  auctioneer  amused  me,  and 
I  could  with  difficulty  restrain  my  laughter.  He,  however, 
put  a  different. interpretation  on  my  merriment,  and  looked 
quickly  away  whenever  he  caught  my  eye.  Innocent  as  I 
was,  he  must  have  supposed  that  I  understood  the  whole 
business.  "Let  me  see  that  watch — I'm  a  watchmaker 
myself,"  said  one  of  the  heavy  gentlemen.  He  opened  it, 
examined  the  works,  and  said :  "  It's  worn  out ;  it  won't 
go,  but  the  silver  is  worth  something.  I'll  allow  you  two 
dollars  for  it,  and  sell  you  this,  which  I  carry  myself,  for 
five."  My  companion  was  taken  in  a  second  time,  and  made 
the  exchange.  The  watch,  however,  though  it  was  not 
silver,  kept  pretty  good  time  for  a  few  weeks. 

At  night,  the  question  was,  Where  shall  we  go?  It 
occurred  to  us,  finally,  that  there  was  a  hotel  called  the 
Howard  House,  not  far  from  John  street.  The  size  of  the 
building  imposed  upon  us  a  little,  but  we  had  never  heard 
of  more  than  twenty-five  cents  being  paid  for  lodging,  and 
went  cheerfully  to  bed.  But  in  the  morning  our  eyes 
were  opened.  "  Six  shillings !"  said  the  clerk,  in  anwer  to 
our  inquiry.  "  Six  shillings  !"  we  both  mechanically  re- 
peated, in  breathless  astonishment.  "  Yes,  that  is  the  regu- 
lar charge,"  he  replied.  We  paid  the  money,  in  duml 
bewilderment,  and  went  ai'ound  to  Gosling's,  in  Ann  street, 
for  our  breakfasts.  The  next  day,  our  names  appeared  in 
the  published  list  of  arrivals  at  the  Howard  House,  and  that. 
my  (companion  declared,  was  w^orth  at  lea«t  four  shillings 


THE   FIRST   JOURNEY    I   EVER   VADB.  9 

At  that  time,  there  were  several  lines  of  steamboats  on 
ihe  Hudson,  and  their  competition  had  reduced  the  fare 
to  Catskill  to  twenty-five  cents — which  was  greatly  to  oui 
advantage.  We  enjoyed  to  the  fullest  extent,  the  scenery 
of  the  glorious  river — still,  to  my  eye's,  after  seeing  tnc 
Danube,  the  Rhine,  the  Rhone,  the  Nile,  and  the  Ganges, 
„he  most  beautiful  river  in  the  world.  Insensible  to  the 
cold  wind  and  occasional  showers  of  rain,  we  walked  the 
hurricane  deck  while  the  splendid  panorama  of  the  Pali- 
sades, Tappan  Zee,  and  the  Highlands  unfolded  on  either 
side.  While  I  was  trying  to  pick  out  Sunnyside  among 
the  villas  around  Tarrytown,  I  was  accosted  by  a  sharp, 
keen-looking  man,  with  "Ah,  here  you  are!  How  are 
you  ?"  I  replied,  in  some  little  embarrassment.  "  Is  youi 
father  well?"  he  continued.  "Quite  well,  sir."  "Is  he  on 
board  ?  I'd  like  to  see  him."  "  No,  I  am  alone."  "  Well, 
I  want  to  hear  something  about  business.  I  have  my  eye 
on  a  new  speculation.  It'll  pay  mighty  well — a  sure  thing. 
I  think  we  could  manage  it  very  well  together."  I  gave 
an  evasive  answer — not  knowing  whether  the  man  had  mis- 
taken me  for  some  one  else,  or  whether  it  was  another 
form  of  the  ubiqiiitous  Peter  Funk.  As  soon  as  possible, 
I  got  away  from  him,  and  carefully  avoided  him  during 
the  rest  of  the  passage. 

We  landed  at  Catskill  early  in  the  afternoon,  shouldered 
our  knapsacks,  and  set  off  for  the  Mountain  House.  The 
day  had  become  warm  and  clear,  and  the  grand  masses  of 
the  mountains  rose  before  us,  clothed  in  the  softest  mantk 
of  light  and  shadow,  as  if  covered  with  deep-blue  velvet 
They  have  never  since  appeared  to  me  so  high,  so  vast,  and 


10  AT    HOME     AND    ABROAD. 

SO  beautiful.  The  green  pasture-land,  over  which  our  road 
lay,  with  its  forests  of  pine  and  hemloclc,  singing  in  the  joy 
of  the  spring-time,  charmed  us  scarcely  less,  and  we  walked 
onward  in  a  wild  intoxication  of  delight.  After  we  had 
travelled  about  six  miles,  a  country  wagon  came  rattling 
along  behind  us.  In  it  sat  a  short,  thickset  farmer,  with  a 
wife  of  still  ampler  proportions.  As  the  wagon  approached 
us,  he  reined  in  his  horses  and  shouted  to  us :  *'  Get  in ! 
get  in  I  there's  plenty  of  room,  and  we're  going  the  same 
way."  We  cheerfully  obeyed,  and  were  soon  on  the  most 
intimate  terms  with  ihe  jolly  people.  "  I  said  to  myself, 
the  minute  I  saw  you ! "  exclaimed  the  farmer,  with  a  laugh 
of  intense  satisfaction :  ''  Here's  a  couple  of  farmer's  boys, 
who  have  just  got  their  corn  planted,  and  are  taking  a  little 
lark  before  hay-harvest.  I'll  help  'em  along,  that  I  vnll !' 
and  you  see  I  wasn't  wrong,  Sarah  ?" — ^turning  to  his  wife. 
"No,  John,"  said  she,  "you're  always  in  the  right;"  and 
then  whispered  to  me,  who  sat  on  the  back  seat  with  her, 
"  I  do  think  my  husband's  the  best  man  in  the  world.  We've 
been  married  now  goin'  on  thirty-six  years,  and  we've  never 
fell  out,  as  other  married  folks  do.  No,  indeed !"  Her 
broad,  happy  face,  no  less  than  her  determined  voice,  pro- 
claimed the  utter  impossibility  of  such  a  thing. 

"I've  got  a  son,  John,"  she  continued  "and  he's  lately  mai 
ried,  and  gone  to  keepin'  house.  She's  the  nicest  little 
daughter-in-law  I  ever  seen.  Why,  you  wouldn't  know 
but  she  was  our  own  born  child !"  The  old  lady  was  fairly 
eloquent  in  praise  of  her  son's  wife.  SI  e  explained  to  me 
minutely  how  she  kept  her  house  in  order,  how  many  cowf 
ghe  milked,  how  neat  she  was,  how  active,  how  saving,  how 


THB   FIRST  JOUKNSY    I   EVE&  MABB.  11 

oheerfUl,  and  how  beautiful.    While  these  confidential  dis 
closures  were  going  on,  we  had  reached  a  little  village  at  tht 
foot  of  the  mountains.     "  Law !  "  she  suddenly  exclaimed 
"  there's  my  son  John ! — John  I  John  I     Here's  two  stran- 
gers we  picked  up  on  the  road.    I've  been  tellin'  'em  abou 
you  and  Hannah  Jane ! "    John,  however,  who  was  engaged 
in  the  difficult  task  of  dragging  along  a  refractory  pig,  by  a 
rope  fastened  to  one  of  its  hind  legs,  and  who  looked  very 
warm  and  vexed,  was  not  so  cordial  towards  us.    He  nod- 
ded (here  the  pig  made  a  bolt.)  "Darn  that  pig !     Are  you 
coming  our  way,  mother  ?     (Another  bolt  across  the  road, 
followed  by  John.)   I  want  to  speak  about  that   (back 
again,  and  off  the  other  side)  calf!" 

Here  we  judged  it  best  to  leave  our  good  friends,  and 
commence  the  ascent  of  the  mountain.  "With  a  hearty 
shake  of  the  hand,  the  farmer,  who  had  learned  our  plans^ 
said :  "  You  won't  be  far  from  our  house,  as  you  go  across 
to  Aithyens  (Athens),  and  you  must  stop  and  get  diunor 

with  us.    Don't  forget  John ,  whenever  you  come  to 

these  parts  again !" 

We  climbed  lustily,  and  just  as  sunset  was  fading  from 
the  Berkshire  Hills,  stood  on  the  rocky  platform  before  tiic 
Mountain  House.  Outside  of  Switzerland,  there  are  few 
landscapes  in  Europe  of  equal  beauty ;  and  this  first  trium- 
phant realization  of  mountain-scenery  was  all  that  my  boy- 
ish imagination  had  painted,  and  more.  The  nights  wer« 
noon-lighted ;  and  the  view  of  the  vast,  mysterious  deep 
traversed  by  the  faint  silver  gleam  of  the  Hudson,  as  I  saw 
it  from  my  pillow,  kept  me  from  sleep  for  hours.  The  next 
day  was  one  of  unmixed  enjoyment.     We  climbed  the  north 


12  AT   UOM£   AND   ABBOAD. 

and  south  peaks,  visited  the  Cauterskill  Falls,  lay  on  th€ 
grass  inhaling  the  odor  of  blossoniing  strawberries  and  the 
resinous  breath  of  the  pines,  and  indulged  in  the  delicioug 
intoxication  of  the  hour,  without  a  thought  beyond.  Wc 
were  the  first  visitors  that  season,  and  possessed  the  moun 
tains  alone.  While  sitting  on  the  rooks,  I  wrote  some 
lines  of  diluted  poetry  on  a  bit  of  drawing  paper,  which 
fell  out  of  my  pocket  afterwards — as  I  subsequently  disco- 
vered, to  my  great  regret.  Fortune,  however,  is  kinder 
towards  bad  poetry  than  good.  The  lines  were  found  by  a 
lady,  some  weeks  later,  and  restored  to  me  through  the 
columns  of  the  Kew  York  Tribune.  I  have  lost  better 
poems  since,  and  nobody  picks  them  out  of  the  dust. 

On  the  second  morning,  we  came  down  to  the  level  of 
common  earth  again,  and  a  walk  of  twenty  miles  or  more 
brought  us  to  Athens,  opposite  Hudson,  in  the  evening. 
Here  we  slept,  and  then  set  off  at  daybreak,  intending  to 
reach  Stockbridge  that  day.  But  one  shower  after  another 
delayed  us  on  the  road;  we  got  bewildered  among  the 
Claverack  Hills,  and  were  fain  to  stop  at  a  farm-house  early 
in  the  afternoon,  to  solicit  rest  and  a  dinner.  The  residents 
were  a  young  couple,  still  overcome  with  the  pride  and  hap- 
piness of  their  first  child.  A  judicious  nursing  of  the  latter, 
while  the  mother  prepared  dinner,  no  doubt  procured  for 
us  the  best  the  house  could  afford.  We  had  ham  and  Qgg^ 
potatoes,  mince  pie  and  coffee  (Don't  I  remember  every 
thing,  even  to  the  pattern  of  the  plates?),  and  were  dismiss- 
ed with  good  wishes — the  honest  young  fellow  reftising  tc 
take  payment  for  the  meal.  This  hospitality  was  well  ..r.iied, 
as  our  resources  {mine,  at  least)  were  fast  dwindling    .w*^ 


THK   FIBST  JOUltNEY    I   EYKK   MADE.  18 

I  became  suddenly  conscious  that  it  would  be  impossible  tc 
carry  out  my  plan  in  all  its  original  grandeur.  What  was 
to  be  done  ?  We  sat  down  on  a  bank  of  damp  violets,  and 
held  a  serious  consultation,  the  result  of  which  was,  that  we 
turned  about,  rather  crest-fallen,  and  marched  back  to  Hud' 
on,  where  we  arrived  after  dark. 

The  rain  the  next  day  justified  our  decision,  and  we 
therefore  took  the  twenty-five-cent  steamer  to  New  York. 
Here  I  parted  from  my  companion,  slept  (not  at  the  Howard 
House,  though !),  and  then  set  out  for  Philadelphia.  By 
taking  the  cars  to  New  Brunswick,  and  walking  thence  to 
Trenton,  in  time  to  catch  the  evening  boat  to  Philadelphia, 
I  managed  to  make  the  journey  for  one  dollar,  and  thereby 
cheat  our  Danish  State  oiit  of  her  passenger  toll.  The 
day  was  hot,  the  road  dusty,  and  my  spirits  much  less 
buoyant  than  when  on  the  outward  tramp,  but  by  hard 
walking  I  got  over  the  twenty-eight  miles  in  seven  hours. 
One  more  day,  mostly  on  foot,  and  I  was  at  home,  trium- 
phant, with  nine  cents  in  my  pocket,  and  a  colossal  cold  in 
my  head. 

Humboldt  once  told  me :  "  Travelling  certainly  increases 
a  man's  vitality,  if  it  does  not  kill  him  at  the  start."  This 
was  ray  first  moderate  essay,  at  the  age  of  eighteen.  And 
I  advise  all  callow  youths  who  think  it  an  easy  matter  tc 
tramp  over  the  whole  world,  to  make  a  similar  trial  trip, 
and  get  their  engines  into  good  working-order,  befor« 
t'airly  putting  out  to  sea. 


II. 

A   NIGHT   WALK. 


Bbforb  asking  my  readers  to  accompany  me  across  the 
ocean,  in  order  that  we  may  explore  together  those  out-of- 
the-way  nooks  of  travel  and  life,  which,  because  they  do 
not  form  an  integral  part  of  the  tourist's  scheme,  are  gene- 
rally omitted  or  overlooked  (like  the  closets  in  a  house)? 
let  me  recall  one  more  preliminary  experience — of  trifling 
import,  perhaps,  yet  it  clings  to  my  memory  with  wonder- 
ful tenacity. 

A  year  after  my  trip  to  the  Catskills,  I  was  occupied 
w  ith  the  preparations  for  a  far  more  extensive  and  ambi- 
tious journey.  I  found  myself  at  last  free,  and  though  the 
field  before  me  was  untried  and  difficult,  I  looked  forward 
lo  it  with  as  light  a  heart  as  had  carried  me  across  New 
Jersey  and  up  the  Hudson.  My  preparations  were  simple 
enough — French  and  German  grammars,  a  portfolio,  and  a 
few  shirts.     By  the  beginmng  of  June  (1844)  I  was  read^ 


A   NIGHT   WALK.  Ifi 

to  set  out.  My  cousin — whose  intention  of  visiting  Europe 
had  been  the  cause  of  precipitating  my  own  plans — was 
also  ready,  when  another  very  important  need  suddenly 
occurred  to  us.     We  had  no  passports. 

In  the  country,  where  no  one  lived  who  had  ever  been 
outside  of  his  native  land,  we  were  quite  unacquainted  witli 
any  means  by  which  our  passports  could  be  procured, 
except  by  going  to  "Washington.  For  my  part,  I  sup- 
posed that  when  u  gentleman  wished  to  travel,  he  was 
obliged  to  report  himself  at  our  national  capital  and  pro- 
bably undergo  a  strict  examination.  There  was  no  help 
for  it — we  must  make  the  journey.  The  distance  was  more 
than  a  hundred  miles,  and  we  calculated  that,  by  taking  a 
steamboat  from  the  mouth  of  the  Susquehanna  River  to 
Baltimore,  we  could  walk  tlie  remainder  of  the  distance  in 
two  days.     So,  on  a  fine  June  morning,  we  started. 

The  first  fifteen  miles  led  through  a  lovely  region  of 
farms  and  villages — a  country  of  richer  and  more  garden- 
like beauty  than  any  which  can  be  seen  this  side  of  Eng- 
land. The  semi-tropical  summer  of  Southern  Pennsylvania 
and  Virginia  had  just  fairly  opened  in  its  prodigal  splendor. 
Hedge-rows  of  black  and  white  thorn  lined  the  road ;  fields 
were  covered,  as  Avith  a  purple  mist,  by  the  blossoms  of 
the  clover ;  and  the  tall  tulip-trees  sparkled  with  meteoric 
showers  of  golden  stars.  June,  in  this  latitude,  is  as  gor- 
geous as  the  Indian  Isles.  As  the  hills,  however,  begui  to 
subside  towards  Chesapeake  Bay,  the  scenery  changes. 
The  soil  becomes  more  thin  and  sandy ;  the  pine  and  the 
rough-barked  persimmons  supplant  the  oak  and  elm; 
thickets    of  paw-paw — our    northern    banana — ^and  chin 


10  AT  nOM£  AXD  AEROAJD. 

capm  (a  shrub  variety  of  the  chestnut)  appear  in  the  warm 
hollows,  and  barren  tracts  covered  with  a  kind  of  scrub- 
oak,  called  "  black-jack,»'  along  the  Eastern  Shore,  thrusi 
themselves  between  the  cultivated  farms.  Mason  and 
Dixon's  line  seems  here  to  mark  the  boundary  between 

lifferent  zones  of  vegetation.    The  last  northern  elm  wavei 

ts  arms  to  the  first  southern  cypress. 

As  we  were  plodding  along  in  the  heat  and  dust,  having 
still  five  miles  of  our  day's  work  of  thirty  to  perform,  we 
met  a  curious  old  man,  on  foot  like  ourselves.  He  was  tall 
and  strongly  made — an  iron  frame,  whose  original  vigor 
was  still  visible  under  all  the  rust  and  batter  of  seventy 
years — with  long,  grizzly  hair  hanging  over  his  weather- 
beaten  face,  and  a  pair  of  sharp,  gray  eyes.  He  was,  evi- 
dently, one  of  the  last  of  those  men  in  whom  the  lawless 
trapper-blood  of  a  portion  of  the  first  colonists  has  been 
transmitted,  by  inheritance,  long  after  the  occupation  of 
the  class  has  passed  away.  I  remember  such  a  one,  whose 
favorite  dish  was  opossum ;  who  always  made  his  own  hat 
of  rabbit-skins;  and  whose  habit  of  carrying  live  black 
snakes  in  his  bosom,  made  hira  at  once  the  terror  and 
the  admiration  of  us  boys.  The  old  man  stopped  before  us, 
fixed  us  with  his  eye,  like  Coleridge's  "  Ancient  Mariner," 
and  said,  after  a  moment  of  keen  inspection:  "So,  boys, 
you're  starting  into  the  world  ?  "  We  assented.  "Well, 
go  on  ;  you'll  get  through,"  he  continued  ;  "  but  let  me 
give  you  one  bit  of  advice.  I  never  saw  you  before,  and 
I'll  never  see  you  again;  but  if  you'll  mind  my  words,  you 
won't  be  the  worse  for't.  You'll  get  knocked  about  a  good 
deal,  that's  sure;  but— /<?ar  no  devils  but  yourselves,  and 


A  IQGHT  WALK.  17 

you'll  come  out  all  right."  With  that,  he  shook  hands 
with  us,  smiled  in  a  grim  yet  not  unkindly  way,  and  weot 
on.  Doubtless  he  spoke  from  bitter  experience :  he  had 
been  his  own  tempting  and  tormenting  devil. 

We  reached  Port  Deposit,  on  the  Susquehanna  River,  in 
season  to  take  the  evening  steamer  for  Baltimore.  Thera 
were  no  other  passengers,  but  we  had  a  dozen  or  more 
canal-boats  in  tow.  The  sweetness  and  splendor  of  that 
evening  will  never  fade  from  my  mind.  It  is  laid  away  in 
the  same  portfolio  with  marvellous  sunsets  on  the  becalmed 
Pacific ;  with  twilights  on  the  Venetian  lagunes ;  and  with 
the  silence  and  mystery  of  the  star-lit  Desert.  The  glassy 
water,  reduplicating  the  simset,  was  as  transparent  as  aii-, 
and  the  gentle  breeze,  created  by  the  motion  of  the  boat, 
was  vital  with  that  sweetest  of  all  odors — the  smell  of  blos- 
soming grasses  on  the  low  and  distant  shores.  Standing 
on  the  hurricane-deck,  we  seemed  to  be  plowing  through 
the  crystal  firmament,  steering  forth  from  the  fading  earth 
towards  some  unknown  planet.  So  fair  and  beautiful 
seemed  to  me  then  the  world  into  which  I  was  embarking 
— so  far  behind  me  the  shores  of  the  boyish  life  I  had  left. 

But  towards  midnight  the  winds  blew  and  the  waves 
rose.  Two  of  the  canal-boats  we  had  in  tow  broke  adrift, 
and  floated  away  ;  and  a  man,  in  securing  another,  had  hi 
finger  caught  in  a  noose  of  the  hawser  and  instantly  takei 
off.  We  ran  into  shallow  water  and  anchored,  where  we 
lay  tossing  until  morning.  So  new  was  all  this  to  me,  that 
I  imagined  we  had  gone  through  a  terrible  storm,  and  was 
rather  surprised  to  find  the  captain  so  cool  and  uncon- 
cerned.    In  consequence  of  this  delay,  we  did  not  reach 


18  AT   UOM£   AND   ABBOAD. 

Baltimore  uutil  the  evening  of  the  next  day,  and  as  the 
steamer's  larder  was  not  provided  for  such  an  emergency, 
our  fare  consisted  of  salt  meat  and  black  coffee.  The  cap- 
tain, however,  apologised  for  his  bad  luck  (the  fact  of  our 
being  bound  for  Washington  seemed  to  inspire  him  with 
great  respect),  and  made  no  charge  for  our  hard  fare. 

"  Let  us,"  said  my  cousin,  as  we  stepped  ashore  at  Balti- 
more, "  walk  on  to  Ellicott's  Mills,  which  is  only  eight  ox 
nine  miles  further,  and  sleep  there  to-night.  We  can  then 
easily  go  to  Washington  to-morrow."  This  was  a  prudent 
proposal,  and  we  started  without  delay.  The  sun  set,  the 
short  twilight  faded  away,  and  it  was  about  nine  o'clock, 
although  not  yet  wholly  dark,  when  we  reached  the  little 
village  below  the  railroad  viaduct.  Tired  and  very  himgry 
— for  we  had  not  supped — we  halted  at  the  tavern,  rejoic- 
ing that  our  day's  journey  was  at  an  end.  To  our  surprise, 
the  house  was  dark,  and  the  doors  locked.  After  knocking 
vigorously  for  some  time,  an  upper  window  was  raised,  and 
a  man's  head  appeared :  "  What  do  you  want  ?  "  he  asked 
in  a  surly  tone.  "  We  want  lodgings.  This  is  a  tavern, 
isn't  it  ? "  said  we.  "  Yes,  it's  a  tavern ;  but  it's  too  late 
now.  The  law  don't  oblige  me  to  keep  it  open  after  nine 
o'clock."  "  Well,"  we  mildly  suggested,  "  it's  not  so  late 
but  you  can  come  down  and  let  us  in."  "  I  tell  you,"  he 
roared,  "the  law  don't  obhge  me,  and  7"t/Jon'<," — where- 
upon he  slammed  down  the  window,. remaining  obstinately 
deaf  to  our  further  knocks. 

This  was  rather  discouraging,  especially  as  everybody  in 
Uie  village  seemed  to  be  already  in  bed.  There  was  nothing 
to  be  done  but  to  go  on  to  the  next  tavern,  which — as  wf 


▲   NIGHT  WALK,  19 

learned  from  a  most  dissipated  man  whom  we  met  on  the 
road  (actually  out  at  half-past  nine  in  the  evening !)  waa 
about  three  miles  further.  In  spite  of  the  balmy  coolness 
of  the  summer  night,  and  the  cheerful  twinkling  of  constel- 
lations of  fire-flies  over  the  meadows,  we  were  thoroughly 
wearied  out  on  reaching  our  second  haven  of  refuge.  But 
our  luck  was  still  worse  than  at  the  first.  All  our  knocking 
and  shouting  failed  to  provoke  a  single  response.  Once  or 
twice  we  heard  a  footstep,  as  if  some  one  were  making  a 
stealthy  observation,  and  then  deep  and  persistent  silence. 
Thoroughly  disheartened,  we  resumed  our  painful  march. 
We  had  proceeded  a  mile  or  two  turther,  and  the  time  was 
verging  towards  midnight,  when  a  blaze  of  light  suddenly 
streamed  across  the  road,  and  the  sound  of  music  reached 
our  ears.  On  the  right  hand,  in  a  grove  of  trees,  stood 
the  mansion  of  a  country  gentleman,  lighted  up  as  for  a 
brilliant  festival.  "  Here,  at  least,  the  people  are  awake," 
said  I.  "  Let  us  inquire  whether  there  is  any  tavern  near, 
where  we  can  get  lodgings."  We  entered  the  gate  and 
walked  up  the  lawn,  towards  the  house.  The  windows 
were  open,  each  one  inclosing  in  its  frame  of  darkness  a 
picture  of  perfect  light  and  beauty.  Young  girls,  in  white 
ball  dresses  and  with  wreaths  of  roses  in  their  hair,  were 
moving  to  and  fro  in  the  dance,  as  if  swaying  lightly  on 
the  delicious  waves  of  the  music.  I  had  never  before  seen 
anything  so  lovely.  It  must  be  a  wedding,  or  some  other 
joyous  occasion,  I  thought ;  they  will  certainly  give  us  a 
shelter.  By  this  time  we  reached  the  portico,  which  was 
occupied  by  a  group  of  gentlemen.  My  cousin,  addressing 
himself  to  the  central  personage,  who  was  evidently  the 


20    /-  Al    HOM£  AND   ABKOAD. 

master  of  the  house,  said  :  "  Can  you  tell  us,  sir,  where  w« 
can  fiud  lodgings  for  the  night  ?  "  If  a  barrel  of  powder 
had  been  fired  and  the  whole  house  blown  into  the  air,  we 
could  not  have  been  more  astonished  than  at  the  result  oi 
his  question.  The  person  addressed  (I  will  not  repeat  th# 
word  "  gentleman  ")  turned  suddenly  and  fiercely  upon  us. 
"  Begone !"  he  shouted  :  "  Leave  the  place,  instantly  !  Do 
you  hear  me  ?  Off!"  We  were  struck  dumb  an  instant ; 
then  my  cousin,  with  as  much  dignity  as  his  indignation 
would  permit,  stated  that  we  were  strangers,  benighted 
and  seeking  an  inn,  and  required  nothing  of  him  except  the 
few  words  of  information  which  he  could  give,  and  we  had 
a  right  to  expect.  A  fresh  volley  of  abuse  followed,  which 
we  cut  short  by  turning  and  walking  away — the  other 
persons  having  been  silent  spectators  of  this  singular  inter 
view. 

We  marched  rapidly  onward  into  the  night,  burning 
with  indignati(»n.  If  joy  gives  wings  to  the  feet,  anger  hae 
an  effect  no  less  potent.  For  two  hours,  the  feeling  wae 
strong  enough  to  overcome  our  sense  of  exhaustion,  but 
Nature  yielded  at  last.  We  were  tormented  by  raging 
thirst,  and  finding  no  running  streams,  were  forced  to  drink 
from  ditches  and  standing  pools,  closing  our  teeth  to  keep 
out  the  tadpoles  and  water-beetles  The  draught  created 
a  nausea  which  added  to  our  faintness.  The  fire-flies  stil 
diiDced  over  the  meadows  ;  the  whip-poor-wills  cried  frou 
the  fences,  sometimes  so  near  that  I  could  almost  hav« 
totiched  them  with  my  hand,  and  the  air  was  filled  witL 
the  silvery  film  of  the  falling  dew.  We  sat  down  on  a 
bank,  utterly  spiritless  and  desperate.     I  proposed  sleeping 


A   NIGHT   WALK..  21 

under  a  tree,  but  we  feared  the  dampness  of  the  earth,  and 
after  starting  and  rejecting  various  propositions,  finally 
decided  to  try  the  fences.  These  were  of  the  zag-zag  kind 
called  "  worm  fences,"  with  stakes  at  the  corners,  held 
down  by  heavy  riders.  Selecting  the  broadest  rails,  we 
lay  down  ;  but  the  first  approach  of  sleep  betrayed  to  us 
the  danger  of  rolling  off  such  a  lofty  and  narrow  perch 
To  sit  on  a  sharp  rail  fence  is  not  agreeable  ;  but  to  sleep, 
even  on  a  broad  one,  is  still  less  so.  Since  that  night,  I 
kave  acquired  such  a  distaste  to  being  "  on  the  fence,"  that 
I  always  take  one  side  of  a  question  at  once,  at  whatever 
risk  of  inconsistency. 

For  another  hour  we  dragged  ourselves  onward,  rathei 
than  walked.  Every  minute  I  caught  myself  in  the  act  of 
falling,  and  once  fell  before  I  could  recover  the  balance. 
About  three  in  the  morning  we  passed  a  farm-house,  in  the 
cattle-yard  adjoining  which  stood  two  carts.  Here  was  at 
last  a  place  of  repose,  as  welcome  as  a  couch  of  eider-down  1 
We  crept  in  among  the  startled  oxen,  who  sniffed  and 
snorted  their  suspicions  of  such  an  unusual  proceeding,  and 
lay  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  cart-bed.  I  suppose  we 
slept  about  an  hour,  when,  finding  ourselves  stiff  and  sore.^ 
though  a  little  recruited,  we  resumed  our  journey.  The 
morning  t^\'ilight  now  came  to  our  assistance,  so  that  we 
got  at  least  clean  water  to  drink.  At  sunrise,  we  were  in 
Bladensburg,  and  broke  our  long  fast  at  a  hospitable  inn 
Two  hours  more,  and  we  were  crossing  Capitol  Hill,  having, 
walked  forty  miles  since  sunset. 

Dusty,  footsore  and  faint,  we  trudged  along  Pennsylvank 
Avenue,  seeking  the  boarding-house  where  the  Member  oi 


22  ▲!    UOMJi    A^L    AB&OAl>. 

Congress  from  our  district  lodged.  On  applying  for  a 
room,  the  hostess  looked  at  us  with  suspicion,  naturally 
hesitating,  until  some  references  which  we  gave  restored  a 
certain  degree  of  confidence.  We  lay  down  and  instantly  fell 
asleep.  The  servant  roused  us  for  dinner,  after  which  we 
slept  until  called  to  tea.  We  then  went  to  bed,  and  slept 
until  the  next  morning.  In  the  whole  course  of  my  subse- 
quent travels,  I  have  never  suffered  from  fatigue,  hunger, 
and  thii-st  to  such  an  extent  as  on  that  night.  I  have  gone 
without  food  a  day  and  a  half;  without  sleep  four  nights  ; 
have  walked  two  hundred  miles  in  six  days,  and  ridden 
three  hundred  and  seventy-eight  miles  in  a  cart,  without 
pause  or  rest,  but  all  these  experiences,  trying  as  they  were, 
shook  my  powers  of  endurance  less  than  the  first  trial. 
i  remember  them  with  a  cert^n  amount  of  pleasure ;  but 
I  never  recall  my  night-walk  from  Baltimore  to  Washington 
without  a  strange  reflected  sense  of  pain. 

The  member  from  our  district  (Hon.  A.  R.  McDvaine) 
kindly  accompanied  us  to  the  Department  of  State,  and 
presented  us  to  Mr.  Calhoun,  whose  frankness,  simplicity, 
and  courtesy  made  a  profound  impression  upon  me.  Our 
passports  were  immediately  prepared,  and  given  to  us.  In 
the  Hall  of  Representatives  I  felt  honored  in  taking  th« 
hand  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  and  hearing  a  few  words  of 
encouragement  from  his  lips.  Our  member  was  so  incon 
siderately  generous  as  to  purchase  five  copies  of  a  juvenile 
volume  which  I  had  published,  by  which  means  my  funds 
were  increased  suflSciently  to  wan-ant  me  in  returning  to 
Baltimore  by  railroad.  I  had  had  quite  enough  of  the  old 
highway. 


A   NIGUT    WAUi.  23 

We  took  the  same  steamer  back  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Susquehanna,  and  walked  the  remainins:  thirty  miles.  I 
reached  home  after  midnight,  and  entering  a  bed-chamber 
through  the  window,  accoi-ding  to  my  usual  custom,  threw 
some  guests,  who  had  arrived  the  day  before,  into  a  horrible 
state  of  alarm. 


HL 


FIRST  DIFFICULTIES  WITH  FOREIGN  TONGUES. 

% 


I  AM  frequently  asked  whether  travel  in  a  country,  with 
the  language  of  which  you  are  unacquainted,  is  not  attended 
with  great  diflSculty  and  embarrassment.  All  difficulties, 
like  all  dangers,  appear  far  more  formidable  at  a  distance 
than  when  one  is  brought  face  to  face  with  them ;  yet  a 
certain  amount  of  experience  is  always  necessary  to  enable 
one  to  encoimter  perplexities  of  this  kind  with  that  courage 
and  self-possession  which  take  away  half  their  terror  at  the 
onset.  If  all  mankind  were  suddenly  deprived  of  the  power 
of  speech,  the  embarrassment  and  confusion  would  be  very 
great  for  a  few  days ;  but  a  fortnight  would  not  elapse 
before  government,  business,  and  society  would  move  on 
in  their  accustomed  courses.  On  entering  a  foreign  coim 
try,  however,  you  are  only  deprived  of  the  faculty  of  com- 
prehension. The  aids  of  tone  and  expression  are  added  tc 
those  of  signs  and  gestures,  and  that  unused  power  of 


FIRST    DIFFICULTIES    WITH    FOREIGN    TONGUES.  25 

interpretation  which  appears  to  us  marvellously  developed 
in  the  deaf  and  dumb,  is  at  once  called  into  action.  Thus 
an  imperfect  knowledge  of  a  language — especially  of  the 
niceties  of  its  pronunciation — is  very  often  a  hindrance 
rather  than  a  help,  because  it  prevents  us  from  using  those 
simple  aids  which  are  of  universal  significance.  I  once 
asked  Ida  Pfeiffer  how  she  managed  to  communicate  with 
the  people  in  Tahiti,  in  Persia,  Circassia,  and  other  coun- 
tries where  she  was  unacquainted  with  the  language. 
"  Entirely  by  signs,"  she  answered,  "  until  I  have  acquired 
the  few  words  which  are  necessary  to  express  my  wants  ; 
and  I  have  never  experienced  any  difficulty  in  making  my- 
self understood." 

In  Europe  the  facilities  of  travel  have  multiplied  so 
greatly  within  the  last  twenty  years,  that  the  veriest  Cock- 
ney may  travel  from  London  to  Vienna  and  find  his  own 
language  spoken  in  every  hotel  he  enters — provided  he  is 
able  to  pay  for  the  luxury.  Railroads  have  not  only 
brought  about  the  abolition  of  all  the  real  annoyances  of 
the  passport  system,  but  they  have  increased  travel  to  such 
an  extent  as  to  make  it,  in  some  countries,  the  chief  source 
of  revenue  to  the  people — who  are  thus  obliged  to  accom- 
modate themselves  in  every  possible  way  to  the  wants  of 
their  customers.  But  at  the  time  of  my  first  journey 
abroad,  in  1844,  this  was  still  far  from  being  the  case,  and 
a  more  minute  account  of  my  initiatory  experiences  than  I 
have  yet  given,  may  be  of  some  interest  to  the  monoglot 
reader. 

On  an  August  evening,  we  looked  across  the  British 
Channel  from  the  summit  of  Shakspeare's  Cliflf.     The  misty 


2tt  AT  UOMU  AUD  ABBOAD. 

outline  of  the  French  coast  rose  beyond  the  water,  like  the 
shore  of  an  unknown  world.  England  can  never  seem  a 
foreign  country  to  the  American;  and  hence  he  cannot 
thoroughly  appreciate  and  enjoy  it  until  after  he  has 
visited  the  Continent — until  his  home  habits  and  pre- 
judices have  been  so  far  obliterated  that  he  can  receive 
impressions  without  constantly  drawing  comparisons.  I 
would  advise  every  one  who  wishes  to  derive  the  greatest 
advantage  from  a  European  tour,  to  visit  England  laat  of 

We  were  even  more  excited  with  the  thought  of  cross- 
mg  the  Channel  than  we  had  been,  a  month  previous,  A^ith 
the  first  sight  of  the  Old  "World.  The  Ostend  steamer 
which  left  only  three  times  a  week,  was  to  start  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  we  took  early  lodgings  at  one 
of  the  famous  (or  rather  infamous)  Dover  taverns.  There 
were  no  "  through  lines "  and  "  through  tickets,"  as  now, 
when  one  may  pass  without  detention  from  Liverpool  to 
the  railroad  stations  nearest  Asia.  The  landlord  promised 
to  call  us  in  season  for  the  boat,  but  his  looks  did  nol 
inspire  us  with  confidence ;  and  our  sleep,  tormented  with 
the  fear  of  being  too  late,  was  fortmiately  very  broker, 
and  disturbed.  At  three  o'clock  we  rose  and  dressed  by 
noonlight.  No  one  was  stirring  in  the  house.  We  waited 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  then  groped  our  way  down-stairs 
to  the  coffee-room.  Feeling  around  in  the  dark,  we  at  last 
reached  the  bell-rope  and  sounded  a  peal.  The  echoes 
rang  through  the  house,  but  no  voice  answered.  The 
outer  door  was  double-locked  and  the  key  taken  away. 
Just  then,  we  heard  the  first  bell  rung  on  board  the 


riEST  DIFFIOULTIES   WITH   FOREIGN  TONaUBb  21 

Steamer,  and  knew  that  we  had  but  twenty  minutes  more. 
The  case  demanded  desperate  means,  so  we  distributed 
our  forces  and  commenced  a  simultaneous  attncl?  One 
rang  the  bell  incessantly ;  one  thumped  up  and  down  thf 
staircase  with  the  handle  of  an  umbrella;  and  the  third 
pounded  upon  the  door  of  a  bedroom  which  we  supposed 
to  be  the  landlord's.  Even  this  produced  no  effect :  we 
were  caged,  to  Le  kept  two  days  longer.  At  last,  the 
second  bell  rang — only  five  minutes  more !  Our  voices 
were  added  to  the  tumult,  and  our  rage  and  anxiety  foimd 
vent  in  a  series  of  the  most  dreadful  yells.  Flesh  and  blood 
could  not  stand  this,  and  presently  the  landlord  made  his 
appearance,  in  his  shirt,  rubbing  his  eyes,  and  pretending 
to  be  just  aroused  from  sleep.  I  believe  nothing  but  the 
fear  of  personal  violence  induced  him  to  unlock  the  door. 
We  snatched  our  knapsacks  and  rushed  down  the  quay  at 
full  speed,  reaching  the  steamer  just  as  the  plank  was 
being  hauled  ashore. 

The  Channel  was  smooth  as  glass,  and  the  mild  splendor 
of  the  summer  morning,  painting  the  chalky  ramparts  of 
England  with  a  pencil  of  pink  flame,  gradually  restoi-ed 
our  equanimity.  At  ten  o'clock,  we  ran  into  the  harboi 
of  Ostend.  I  had  learned  to  read  a  little  French  at  school, 
but  had  never  spoken  the  language,  nor  was  my  ear  at  all 
familiar  with  the  sound  of  it.  However,  there  were  some 
other  travellers  on  board,  and  by  carefully  watching  and 
following  their  movements,  we  complied  with  the  neces- 
sary regnlatims  regarding  passports  and  baggage.  The 
train  for  Bruges  did  not  leave  for  two  or  three  hours,  and 
we  spent  the  intermediate  time  in  wandering  about  the 


28  AT    HOMIC    AND   ABROAD. 

city,  inspecting  its  ugly,  yellow  houses,  listening  to  tiM 
queer  Flemish  dialeot,  wonuvring  at  the  clatter  of  wooden 
shoes — in  short,  in  a  general  condition  of  astonishment  and 
open-mouthed  observation. 

At  the  station,  the  word  "Bruges"  was  sufficient  to 
procure  us  tickets ;  the  exhibition  of  the  tickets  got  our 
baggage  checked;  and  we  set  out  from  Ostend,  in  high 
glee  at  our  success.  In  an  hour  we  were  at  Bruges,  feel- 
ing a  little  less  confident  as  we  walked  away  jffom  the  star 
tion.  Here,  however,  we  were  accosted  by  a  sort  of 
shabby  valet-de-place,  who  spoke  a  few  words  of  English, 
and  offered  to  guide  us  through  the  city  for  a  franc.  1 
have  not  a  very  distinct  recollection  of  our  walk,  except  of 
the  dim,  imposing  cathedral  (the  first  mediaeval  church  I 
ever  entered),  and  some  beautiful  altar-pieces,  from  the 
pencil  of  Hans  Hemling.  I  remember,  however,  that  the 
evening  was  dark  and  rainy,  and  that  I  began,  presently, 
to  feel  miserably  strange  and  lonely.  The  guide  informed 
us  that  a  trekshuyt  was  to  start  that  evenings  on  the  canal, 
for  Ghent,  and  we  could  get  passage,  including  a  bed,  for 
three  francs.  He  accordingly  conducted  us  to  the  dark 
old  barge,  and  gave  us  into  the  captain's  care.  We  left 
our  knapsacks  in  the  cabin ;  I  went  back  to  the  town,  in 
the  rain  and  twilight,  to  hear  the  chimes  of  the  belfry  in 
the  market-square,  while  my  companions  tried  their  luck 
in  purchasing  material  for  a  supjjer.  They  could  point  at 
the  articles  displayed  in  the  windows  and  on  the  shelves, 
and  offer  pieces  of  money ;  but  their  choice  was  neces- 
sarily restricted  to  what  they  saw,  for  they  were  unable  to 
%sk  for  anything.    When  we  met  again,  in  the  low  cabin  of 


STEST  DIFFICULTIKS  WITH  POEEIGN  TONGUES.  29 

the  trekshuyt^  they  produced  a  loaf,  a  piece  of  powerful 
cheese,  and  some  raisins  and  almonds,  which  constituted  our 
supper. 

To  youth  and  hunger,  however,  nothmg  comes  amiss, 
and  our  meal  was  a  cheerful  and  satisfactory  one.  Thf 
cabin,  whose  black  timbers  made  it  appear  a  century  old 
was  dimly  lighted  by  a  single  candle.  We  were  alone  in 
the  boat;  for,  although  the  hour  fixed  for  our  departure 
was  past,  neither  the  captain  nor  the  sailors  had  made  their 
appearance.  Afterwards,  we  retired  to  rest,  in  wide,  pon- 
derous berths,  containing  delicious  beds,  of  the  cleanest 
lavendered  linen  (of  all  luxuries  on  earth,  the  greatest), 
and  quickly  fell  asleep.  No  sound  disturbed  our  slumbers. 
Only  once  in  the  night,  opening  my  eyes  as  I  lay,  I  saw  the 
dark  branches  of  trees  gliding  spectrally  past  the  window. 
In  the  morning,  the  shock  of  the  boat  striking  the  pier  at 
Ghent  aroused  us.  By  repeating  the  words  '"'' chefmin  de 
fer^''  accompanied  by  an  uncertain  gesture,  the  captain 
comprehended  that  we  wished  to  know  where  the  railroad 
station  was,  and  sent  a  boy  to  pilot  us.  There  the  name 
of  "  Aix-la-Chapelle "  was  again  sufficient  for  our  tickets 
aixd  baggage. 

Our  journey  that  day  was  not  so  agreeable.  For 
economy's  sake,  we  took  third-class  places,  in  open  cars, 
which  only  furnished  standing-room.  Soon  after  passing 
Mechlin,  the  rain  began  to  fall  and  a  driving  storm  set  in, 
the  violence  of  which  was  doubled  by  the  motion  of  the 
train.  We  huddled  together  under  one  umbrella,  all  three 
wrapped  in  a  Mackinaw  blanket,  and  endeaAored  to  enjoy 
the  beautiful  scenery  between  Liege  and  Verviers.    But,  a1 


80  AT   HOME  AND   ABBOAI>. 

last,  thoroughly  chilled  and  soaked,  the  romantic  element 
disappeared,  and  we  thought  only  of  reaching  fire  and 
shelter.  It  was  nearly  night  when  we  arrived  at  Aix-la- 
Chapelle.  As  soon  as  the  light  and  easy  regulations  pre 
scribed  on  crossing  the  Prussian  frontier  had  been  complied 
with,  we  took  an  omnibus  to  th<^  Rhine  Hotel.  (I  believe 
we  pointed  out  the  name  in  the  guide-book  to  the  driver.) 
Here  it  was  necessary  to  make  an  efibrt ;  we  were  wet  ai 
drowned  rats,  and  wanted  to  dry  ourselves.  I  accordingly 
said  to  the  head  waiter  :    "  Un  chambre  de  feu  I    Nous 

sommes "  wet,  I  would  have  added,  if  I  had  known  what 

the  Frenchmen  say  when  they  are  wet.     "  Yous  etes /»* 

repeated  the  waiter,  pausing  for  the  key-word.  "  Oui,  nous 
sommes "  there  I  stuck  again,  hesitated,  and  then,  grow- 
ing desperate,  seized  his  hand,  and  placed  it  on  my  coat. 
**  Oh !  you  mean  you  are  wet,"  said  he,  in  very  good  English. 
W"e  had  no  further  difficulty  during  the  remainder  of  oui 
stay  in  Aix-la-Chapelle. 

The  next  day  we  took  passage  for  Cologne.  We  had 
now  entered  the  German  region,  and  what  little  French  I 
knew  was  almost  useless.  The  train  was  detained  for  some 
time  at  one  of  the  comitry  stations,  and  we  began  to  feel 
the  want  of  dinner.  Noticing  one  of  the  passengers  eating 
a  piece  of  bread  and  cheese,  I  said  to  him,  "  What  is  that?'* 
at  the  same  time  pointing  to  the  articles.  The  words  were 
so  much  like  the  German  that  he  understood  me,  and 
answered,  *''■  Brad  und  Kdse''''  By  repeating  this,  we  were 
■soon  supplied  with  bread  and  cheese.  At  Cologne,  the 
word  "Bonn"  was  sufficient  to  guide  us  to  the  Bone 
rtulway  station,  where  we  gave  om  baggage  in  charge  to  a 


VmSl    DIFFICULTIES   WITH    FOBEIGN   TONGUES.  3\ 

porter — pointing  out  to  hun  on  tlie  time-table,  the  train  by 
which  we  intended  to  leave.  This  left  us  free  to  spend  tha 
afternoon  in  wandering  about  Cologne. 

At  Bonn,  that  evening,  we  acquired  some  new  expe- 
riences. Murray's  Handbook  recommends  the  "  Golden 
Star"  Hotel  as  the  cheapest  on  the  Rhine ;  and  thither  we 
accordingly  went.  It  turned  out,  nevertheless,  to  be  the 
most  stylish  establishment  of  the  kind  we  had  ever  patron- 
ized. The  reader  must  bear  in  mind  that,  up  to  this  time, 
I  had  been  accustomed  only  to  the  simplest  country-life, 
and  was  utterly  ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the  world,  even 
at  home.  When,  therefore,  I  entered  the  briUiantly-lighted 
diniug-hall,  in  order  to  take  some  supper,  and  saw  three  or 
four  officers  seated  at  a  table — all  the  other  tables  being 
vacant — I  supposed  that  theirs,  of  course,  was  the  table 
where  supper  was  served,  and,  without  more  ado,  seated 
myself  beside  them.  They  must  have  been  utterly  astound- 
ed at  this  proceeding  ;  for  I  still  remember  the  odd, 
amazed  expression  of  their  faces.  Really  the  Germans  are 
a  very  ill-mannered  people,  thought  I ;  and  sat  there,  com- 
placently enough,  until  a  servant  invited  me  to  taj^e  a  seat 
elsewhere. 

We  had  all  been  infected  by  the  temperance  revival, 
which,  set  on  foot  by  the  Baltimore  Washingtonians,  had 
swept  over  the  United  States.  We  might  have  tasted 
wine  as  small  children,  but  its  flavor  had  been  wholly  for- 
gotten, and  we  looked  upon  the  beverage  as  a  milder  sort 
of  poison.  When,  therefore,  we  saw  every  man  with  hia 
bottle  of  Rhenish,  we  were .  inexpressibly  shocked ;  still 
Qiore  so,  when  the  servant  asked  us  (in  English)  what 


32  AT    UOME   AND   ABROAD. 

wine  we  should  take.  The  tavorite  beverage  at  home  thei 
was — and  still  is,  in  the  West — coffee,  even  at  dinner ,  and 
accordingly  we  ordered  coffee.  The  man  hesitated,  as  if 
he  had  not  rightly  understood ;  but,  on  the  order  being 
repeated,  brought  us  coffee,  as  if  for  breakfast,  with  French 
rolls.  He  could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes,  when  he  saw  ua 
place  the  cups  beside  our  beefsteaks  and  potatoes.  We 
tried  the  same  experiment  once  or  twice  afterwards,  but 
were  finally  driven  to  taste  the  dreaded  poison  of  the 
Rhine.  Finding,  after  a  fair  trial,  that  our  health  did  not 
suffer,  nor  our  understandings  become  confused,  we  came 
Lo  the  conclusion  that  we  had  been  a  little  hasty  in  pro- 
nouncing upon  the  nature  of  wiae,  from  the  representations 
of  those  who  had  been  ruined  by  whisky. 

Our  next  day  on  the  Rhine  was  a  golden  one.  All  these 
little  embarrassments  were  forgotten,  when  we  saw  th^ 
Seven  Mountains  rising,  fair  and  green,  in  a  flood  of  sun- 
shine— when  we  passed  under  the  ramparts  of  Ehrenbreit- 
Btein,  and  heard  the  bugle-notes  flung  back  from  the  rocks 
of  the  Loreley.  To  me  it  was  a  wonderful,  a  glorious  dream. 
I  have  tried,  since  then,  to  recall  the  magic  of  that  day ; 
but  in  vain.  I  miss  the  purple  tint  breathed  upon  the  hills 
— the  mystic  repose  of  the  sky — the  sweetness  of  the  air — 
the  marvellous  splendor  of  the  sunshine ;  or,  perhaps,  the 
missing  note,  which  alone  could  have  restored  the  harmony 
of  the  first  impression,  has  been  lost  by  me — ^the  ardent 
inspiration  of  youth,  the  light  that  is  once,  on  sea  and  land 
—once,  and  never  again ! 

I  left  my  companions  at  Mayence,  mtending  to  visit 
Frankfort,   before   proceeding  to   Heidelberg,  where  w« 


FIRST    DIFFICULTIES    WITH   FOREIGN   TONGUES  33 

designed  romaiuing  until  we  had  mastered  the  Gennar 
language.  My  object  was  to  visit  Mr.  Richard  Willis,  who 
was  then  pursuing  his  musical  studies  in  Germany.  I 
reached  Frankfort  in  an  hour,  and  at  once  started  in  search 
of  the  American  Consul.  After  inquiring  at  a  great  many 
sliops  in  the  principal  streets,  I  at  last  found  a  man  wIj' 
spoke  a  little  French,  and  who  informed  me  that  the  Con 
8ul  resided  in  the  BeUemie.  (In  reality,  it  was  the  Schone 
Aussicht,  which  means  the  same  thing.)  I  think  I  must 
have  walked  all  over  the  city,  and  its  suburb  of  Sachsen- 
hausen,  three  times,  without  finding  a  SeUevvie  street.  The 
thought  then  occurred  to  me,  to  select  the  streets  which 
really  commanded  fine  views,  and  confine  my  search  to 
them.  Proceeding  on  this  plan,  I  presently  discovered  the 
Consul's  house.  I  had  bought  some  biscuits,  at  a  baker's, 
for  my  breakfast ;  and,  not  knowing  how  else  to  dispose  of 
them,  had  put  them  into  my  hat.  When  I  was  ushered 
into  the  consular  office,  I  placed  my  hat  carefully  on  a  table 
in  the  ante-room,  hoping  no  one  would  notice  its  contenta 
The  old  gentleman  who  then  represented  the  United 
States,  however,  persisted  in  accompanying  me  to  the  door 
— a  courtesy  I  would  willingly  have  dispensed  with — and, 
guided  by  my  own  nervous  consciousness,  made  directly 
for  the  hat,  and  looked  into  it.  'Tis  ever  thus,  from  child 
hood's  hour;  whatever  you  particularly  wish  to  conceal,  is 
sure  to  be  detected.  I  was  somewhat  consoled  by  the  re- 
flection that  Dr.  Franklin  walked  through  the  streets  with 
a  sheet  of  gingerbread  under  his  arm,  which  was  even 
worse  than  if  he  had  hidden  it  in  his  shovel-brim. 

With  this  experience,  my  special  embarrassments  ended. 


34  AT  HOME  ANH  ABROAD. 

Mr,  Willis  deposited  me  safely  in  the  eilwagen  for  Heidel 
berg,  where  I  remained  quietly  until  I  knew  enough  Ger- 
man to  travel  with  ease  and  comfort.  Having  mastered 
one  language,  a  second  is  acquired  with  half  the  difficulty ; 
and  I  have,  since  then,  had  no  particular  trouble  in  picking 
np  enough  of  a  strange  tongue  to  express  simple  and  neces- 
sary wants.  The  smallest  stock  upon  which  you  can  con- 
veniently travel,  is  fifty  words  ;  which  a  man  of  ordinary 
memory  can  learn  in  two  or  three  hours.  Let  me  advise 
others,  however,  not  to  fall  into  the  common  mistake  of 
imagining  that  a  man  is  deaf,  because  he  cannot  understand 
you ;  neither  clip  your  words,  and  speak  a  sort  of  broken  or 
inverted  English,  in  the  hope  that  it  will  be  more  easily 
comprehended.  I  have  heard  of  an  American,  who  was 
looked  upon  as  an  impostor  in  Europe,  because  he  de- 
clared he  came  from  "  'Mecca,"  which  he  thought  would 
be  better  imderstood  than  if  he  had  spoken  out,  like  a  sen- 
sible man,  syllable  by  syllable,  the  word— "A-mkb-kul." 


IV. 

A  YOUNG  AUTHOR'S  LIFE  IN  LONDON. 


I  BB&.CHBD  London  for  the  second  time  about  the  middle 
of  March,  1846,  after  a  dismal  walk  through  Normandy, 
and  a  stormy  passage  across  the  Channel.  I  stood  upon 
London  Bridge,  in  the  raw  mist  and  the  falling  twihght, 
with  a  franc  and  a  half  in  my  pocket,  and  deliberated  what 
I  should  do.  Weak  from  sea-sickness,  hungry,  chUled,  and 
without  a  single  acquaintance  in  the  great  city,  my  situation 
was  about  as  hopeless  as  it  is  possible  to  conceive.  Success- 
ful authors  in  their  libraries,  seated  in  cushioned  chairs  and 
dipping  their  pens  into  silver  inkstands,  may  write  about 
money  with  a  beautiful  scorn,  and  chant  the  praise  of 
Poverty — the  "  good  goddess  of  Poverty,''  as  George  Sand, 
making  50,000  francs  a  year,  enthusiastically  terms  her — 
but  there  is  no  condition  in  which  the  Real  is  so  utterly  at 
variance  with  the  Ideal,  as  to  be  actually  out  of  money,  and 
hungry,  with  nothing  \o  pawn  and  no  friend  to  borrow  from, 


86  AX  HOME  AJW  ABROAt). 

Have  you  ever  known  it,  my  friend  ?  If  not,  1  coulc 
wish  that  you  might  have  the  experience  for  twenty-foni 
hours,  only  once  in  your  life. 

I  remembered,  at  last,  that  during  my  first  visit  to  Lon- 
Ion,  eighteen  months  previous,  I  had  lodged  a  few  nights 
t  a  chop-house  opposite  the  Aldgate  Church-yard.  The 
price  of  a  bed  was  one  shilling,  which  was  within  the  com- 
pass of  ray  franc  and  a  half — and  rest  was  even  more  to  mo 
than  food.  As  I  passed  through  the  crowd  towards  Cheap- 
side  and  thence  eastward  to  Aldgate,  the  lamps  were  lighted 
and  the  twilight  settled  into  a  drear,  rainy  night.  In  the 
lighted  shops  I  saw  joints  of  the  dark  crimson  beef  of  Old 
England,  hams,  fish,  heads  of  lettuce — everything  fresh, 
succulent,  and  suggestive  of  bountiful  boards.  Men — ^the 
very  porters  and  street-sweepers,  even — were  going  home 
with  their  little  packages  of  tea,  shrimps,  and  penny  rolls. 
They  all  had  homes  to  go  to,  and  no  care  for  the  morrow : 
how  I  envied  them  1 

At  last  I  reached  the  end  of  Aldgate,  turned  up  the  alley 
beside  the  old  church-yard,  and  entered  the  chop-house. 
The  landlord  was  a  broad,  pursy,  puffy  fellow,  and  his  wife 
a  tall,  keen,  aquiline,  and  determined  woman,  who  deserved 
a  better  fate.  She  was  intended  by  nature  for  the  presi- 
dency of  a  Charitable  Association.  The  place  had  changed" 
proprietors,  so  that  they  could  not  recognise  me,  as  I  had 
hoped.  However,  as  there  was  a  vacant  bed,  and  they  did 
not  manifest  any  special  mistrust,  I  determined  to  abide 
with  them,  and,  professing  great  fatigue,  was  conducted  to 
my  room  at  once.  It  was  a  bare  apartment  on  the  second 
story,  containing  a  miserable  bed,  an  old  spinnet,  with 


A   YOUNG    AUTHOR'S    TJPE   IN    LONDON.  31 

every  key  broken  or  out  of  tune,  a  cracked  looking-glass, 
and  two  chairs.  The  window  commanded  a  cheerful  view 
of  the  church-yard. 

In  the  morning,  I  took  a  sixpenny  breakfast,  and  offered 
a  ftanc-piece  in  payment.  Tlie  landlord  refused  to  take  it, 
whereupon  I  informed  him  that  my  funds  were  all  in  French 
coin  and  I  had  as  yet  had  no  opportunity  of  procuring  EngUsh. 
This  seemM  to  satisfy  him ;  so  I  went  forth  with  the  hope 
of  procuring  employment  as  a  printer.  But  all  my  efforts 
were  in  vain,  and  I  returned  at  night,  with  only  two-pence 
in  ray  pocket,  after  I  had  paid  for  my  breakfast.  That 
night  T  did  not  sleep  much.  The  crisis  had  arrived,  and  if 
relief  did  not  come  the  next  day,  I  saw  nothing  but  starva- 
tion or  doAvnright  vagrancy  (the  idea  of  which  was  even 
worse)  in  store  for  me.  I  rose  early,  so  as  to  get  away 
from  the  house,  before  I  could  be  called  upon  to  pay  for 
my  bed.  After  trying  various  printing-offices,  always  with 
the  same  result,  I  bought  some  bread  with  my  two-pence, 
and,  by  a  singular  revulsion  of  feeling,  became  perfectly 
happy  and  careless.  I  was  young  and  full  of  life,  and  had 
been  disheartened  as  long  as  my  temperament  would  per- 
mit. Nature  resumed  her  rights,  and  I  could  not  have  been 
more  cheerful  had  my  pockets  been  filled  with  gold. 

This  buoyancy  of  spirits  was  like  a  presentiment  of  com- 
mg  good-luck.  In  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  I  found  an 
American  publisher,  who  gave  me  instant  relief,  in  the  loan 
of  a  sovur^ign ;  and  afterwards,  sufficient  employment  to 
defi-ay  the  three  shillings  a  day,  which  I  was  obliged  to  ex- 
pend. When  I  returned  to  the  chop-house  that  night,  ] 
paid  for  my  lodgings  with  an  air,  I  fancy,  unnecessarily 


88  AT   UOALE   AND   ABBOAO 

osteutatious;  but  not  without  reason — I  had  seventeec 
shillings  in  my  pocket !  Of  course,  I  was  obliged  to  re- 
main there — for  at  no  better  place  could  I  procure  a  bed  at 
the  same  price.  The  chop-house  was  the  resort  of  actorv 
from  some  low  theatre  in  Whitechapel,  hackmen,  sailors 
occasionally,  and  pawnbroker'  clerks.  I  kept  aloof  from 
them,  taking  my  chop  in  a  solitary  stall,  and  reading  old 
numbers  of  the  Times  or  a  greasy  copy  of  the  Family 
Herald^  when  it  was  too  cold  to  remain  in  my  room. 

The  people  never  interfered  with  me  in  any  way.  They 
respected  my  silence  and  reserve ;  so  I  fared  better  than 
might  have  been  expected.  During  the  whole  six  weeks 
of  my  stay,  I  was  never  asked  a  personal  question.  Could 
the  same  thing  happen  in  the  United  States  ?  Sometimes, 
in  the  evenings,  the  company  became  boisterous  and  dis- 
agreeable, and  I  would  be  awakened,  late  at  night,  by 
angry  cries  and  the  sound  of  overthrown  chairs  and  tables 
The  landlord's  eyes,  next  morning,  would  then  be  bigger 
than  usual — frequently  the  landlady's,  also.  The  littJe 
servant-girl,  at  such  times,  would  whisper  to  me,  as  she 
brought  my  boots:  "O  goody!  but  didn't  master  and 
missus  fight  last  night!"  All  the  criminal  trials,  even 
those  of  a  nature  not  to  be  mentioned  in  mixed  society, 
were  freely  discjissed  there.  In  a  word,  my  associations 
were  not  of  the  most  respectable  character — I  was  reluc- 
tantly forced  to  this  conclusion.  But  how  could  it  be 
helped?  When  a  man  has  but  three  shillings  a  day,  he 
cannot  keep  four-shilling  society,  without  cheating  some- 
body. I  lodged  in  a  vulgar  hole,  it  is  true ;  but  then,  J 
paid  my  reckoning. 


A   YOUNG   AUTHOR'S    LIFE   TN   LONDON.  39 

My  only  riches,  at  this  time,  consisted  of  a  number  ol 
manuscript  poems,  written  at  Florence,  during  the  previous 
autumn.     They  possessed  great  merit,  in  my  eyes,  and  1 
did  not  see  how  they  could  fail  to  make  the  same  impres 
aon  upon  others.     One  of  the  first  things  I  did,  therefore 
was  to  send  three  or  four  to  each  of  the  popular  magazines 
— AinswortKs,  Bentley''8,  and  Fraser'^s — expecting  to  re- 
ceive a  guinea  apiece,  at  least,  for  them.     But  day  after 
day  passed  away,  and  the  only  answer  which  came,  wafe 
from  the  quarter  where  I  had  least  expected  it — ^from  Mr. 
Harrison  Ainsworth,  the  author  of  "  Jack  Sheppard,"  and 
"  Old  St.  Paul's."     The  following  is  his  letter,  in  reply  to 
one  which  I  had  written  in  the  hour  of  my  greatest  need : 

"Kbnsal  Mawor  House,  Harrow  Road^ 

"  March  27,  1846. 

"  Sib:  1  retun  your  poems  with  reluctance,  for  I  think  very  highly  of 
them.  They  exhibit  great  freshness  and  vigour,  and  are  certainly  above 
the  average  of  magazine  poetry.  But,  as  you  conjecture,  I  am  overstocked 
with  both  prose  and  verse — and  have  more  of  the  latter  on  hand  than  I 
tan  use  in  any  reasonable  time. 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  be  of  sendee  to  you ;  and  I  may,  perhaps,  be  able 
to  Leip  you  to  some  employment,  through  my  printer,  Mr  Charles  Whiting 
Beaiifort  House,  Strand.  You  can  call  upon  his  overseer,  Mr.  Gusyn,  and 
show  him  this  note ;  and  if  they  have  any  vacancy,  and  you  can  offer 
sufficient  credentials  of  your  respectability  and  fitness,  I  am  pretty  sure 
my  recommendation  vnll  avail.  Under  any  circumstances,  when  you 
have  seen  Mr.  Gusyr,  and  I  hear  from  him,  I  would  send  you  aoir« 
jifiing  assistance. 

"W.  Harrison  Ainswobth." 

This  note,  friendly,  yet  guarded  (as  was  proper  under 
the  circumstances),  reached  me  after  I  had  succeeded  in 


40  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

obtaining  employment  with  Mr.  Putnam,  and  I  never  niadf 
use  of  it.  I  may  add  that  the  assistance  Mr.  Ainsworth 
offered  had  not  been  solicited  in  my  letter,  and  therefore, 
while  it  illustrated  his  kindness,  was  not  humiliating  t« 
myself.  A  polite  notice  of  rejection,  from  Fruser's  Maga 
zine^  reached  me  after  my  return  to  America.  I  never 
offered  the  same  poems  to  any  other  peiiodical  afterwards, 
and  have  every  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  my  forbearance. 
This,  however,  was  not  the  only  attempt  I  made  to 
achieve  some  literary  success  in  London.  I  had  a  letter  to 
Mr.  Murray,  the  publisher,  from  Mrs.  TroUope,  whose 
acquaintance  I  had  made  in  Florence.  That  lady — whose 
famous  book  on  America  is  no  gauge  of  her  cordiality 
towards  Americans — received  and  encouraged  me,  in  a 
manner  which  must  always  command  my  gratitude.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  her  speculations  in  Cincinnati 
were  unsuccessful,  and  that  she  left  the  United  Statef 
chagrined  and  embittered  at  her  heavy  losses.  Her  boot 
— wliich,  spiteful  and  caricaturesque  as  it  certainly  was 
did  us  no  real  harm — was  written  under  the  first  sling  of 
her  failure,  and  she  regretted  it  sincerely,  in  later  years 
We  can  now  afford  to  be  friendly  again  towards  a  witty, 
cheerful,  and  really  warm-hearted  woman — who  having 
forgotten  what  she  lost,  remembers  only  what  she  admired 
among  us. 

I  had  in  ray  knapsack  a  manuscript  poem  of  some  twelve 
undred  lines,  called  "  i  he  Liberated  Titan  " — the  idea  of 
which  I  fancied  to  be  something  entirely  new  in  literature 
Perhaps  it  was.    I  did  not  doubt,  for  a  moment,  that  any  Lon- 
don publisher  would  gladly  accept  it,  and  I  imagined  that  iU 


A   YOITSTG   author's   LIFE   IN   LONDON.  41 

appearance  would  create  not  a  little  sensation.  Mr.  Murray 
gave  the  poem  to  his  literary  adviser,  who  kept  it  ahout  a 
month,  and  then  returned  it,  with  a  polite  message.  I  waa 
advised  to  try  Moxon ;  but,  by  this  time,  I  had  sobered 
down  considerably,  and  did  not  wish  to  risk  a  second  rejec- 
tion. I  therefore  solaced  myself  by  reading  the  immortal 
poem  at  night,  in  my  bare  chamber,  looking  occasionally 
down  into  the  graveyard,  and  thinking  of  mute,  inglorious 
Miltons.  The  curious  reader  may  ask  how  1  escaped  the 
catastrophe  of  publishing  the  poem,  at  last.  That  is  a 
piece  of  good  fortune  for  which  I  am  indebted  to  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Bushnell,  of  Hartford.  We  were  fellow-passengers  on 
board  the  same  ship  to  America,  a  few  weeks  later,  and  I 
had  sufficient  confidence  in  his  taste  to  show  him  the  poem. 
His  verdict  was  charitable ;  but  he  asserted  that  no  poem 
of  that  length  should  be  given  to  the  world  before  it  had 
received  the  most  thorough  study  and  finish — and  exacted 
from  me  a  promise  not  to  publish  it  within  a  year.  At 
the  end  of  that  time,  I  renewed  the  promise  to  myself  for  a 
thousand  years. 

Mr.  Murray  received  me  with  great  kindness,  and  I  more 
than  once  left  my  den  at  Aldgate  to  dine  at  his  storied 
residence  in  Albemarle  street.  At  this  time,  I  wore  broad 
collars,  turned  down — such  as  I  had  been  accustomed  to 
wear  at  home — with  flowing,  unEnglish  locks,  and  I  sua 
peel  the  flunkeys  were  puzzled  what  to  make  of  me.  I 
remember  distinctly  having  purchased  a  pair  of  Berlin 
gloves,  which  were  the  cheapest.  They  were  exactly  of 
the  kind  worn  by  footmen — but  I  was  entirely  innocent  of 
that  fact.     Walking  one  day  in  Hyde  Paik,  with  a  gentle 


42  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

mau  to  whom  I  had  been  introduced,  I  put  them  on ;  and 
it  never  occurred  to  me,  until  years  afterwards,  why  he 
looked  at  them  so  curiously,  and  made  such  haste  to  get 
into  a  less-frequented  thoroughfare. 

Mr.  Murray  showed  to  Lockhart,  who  was  then  editor 
jf  the  Quarterly  Heview,  a  poem  which  I  had  written  on 
Powers'  statue  of  "  Eve,"  and  that  distinguished  gentleman 
sent  me  an  invitation  to  breakfast  with  him  a  few  days 
afterwards.  I  called  for  Murray  and  walked  with  him  to 
Lockhart's  residence,  on  Regent's  Park.  We  found  there 
Bernard  Barton,  the  old  Quaker  poet,  and  a  gentle- 
man from  Edinburgh.  Lockhart  received  me  with  great 
cordiality,  mingled  with  a  stately  condescension.  He  waa 
then  not  more  than  fifty  years  old,  and  struck  me  as  being 
the  handsomest  Englishman  I  had  ever  seen.  He  was  tall 
and  well-proportioned,  with  a  graceful,  lordly  deliberateness 
in  his  movements ;  a  large,  symmetrical  head  ;  broad  brow ; 
deep,  mellow  eyes ;  splendidly  cut  nose,  and  a  mouth  dis- 
proportionately small.  His  voice  was  remarkably  rich  and 
full.  I  was  a  little  overawed  by  his  presence,  and  he  nc 
doubt  remarked  it  and  was  not  displeased  thereat. 

Bernard  Barton,  however,  was  a  man  towards  whom  I 
felt  instantly  attracted.  He  had  a  little,  round,  gray  head 
merry  gray  eyes,  and  cheeks  as  ruddy  as  a  winter  apple 
He  was  dressed  in  a  very  plain  black  suit,  with  knee 
breecnes  and  stockings,  and  a  white  cravat.  Lamb,  Hazlitt, 
and  his  other  friends  had  passed  away,  and  he  had  almost 
outlived  his  reputation — yet  was  as  happy  and  satisfied  as  ii 
he  had  just  been  made  poet-laureate.  I  afterwards  became 
one  of  his  correspondents,  and  received  several  delightfb] 


A   YOUNG   AUTHOE'S  LIFJ5  IN  LONDON.  49 

letters  from  the  good  little  man.  Lockhart's  daughter— 
th<»  daughter  of  Sophia  Scott — presided  at  the  breakfast- 
table.  She  was  a  lovely  gul  of  seventeen,  just  entering 
society,  and  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  her  mother,  whose 
portrait  I  saw  in  the  library.  She  was  rather  tall  and 
slender,  exquisitely  fair,  yet  with  dark  Highland  hair  and 
eyes — a  frail,  delicate  character  of  beauty,  which  even  then 
foretold  her  early  death.  Two  years  afterwards  she  mar- 
ried Mr,  Hope,  and  one  of  her  children  is  now  the  only 
descendant  of  Sir  "Walter  Scott. 

The  principal  topic  of  conversation  at  breakfast  was  the 
battle  of  Ferozeshah,  the  news  of  which  had  just  arrived. 
Lockhart  seemed  quite  excited  by  it,  and  related  several 
incidents  with  great  animation.  We  afterwards  spent  an 
hour  in  the  library,  where  I  saw  the  fifty  volumes  of  Scott's 
correspondence,  with  all  the  great  authors  of  the  world,  of 
his  time.  Lockhart  read  with  a  ringing,  trumpet-like  voice, 
from  the  original  manuscript,  the  first  di'aft  of  Campbell's 
"  Battle  of  the  Baltic."  He  also  related  to  us  many  par- 
ticulars of  the  last  days  of  Southey.  I  felt  aroused  and 
inspired  by  the  sight  of  such  relics  and  the  company  of  such 
men,  and  when  I  returned  to  the  chop-house  that  night,  to 
pore  over  my  own  despised  poems,  it  was  with  a  savage 
bitterness  of  spirit  which  I  had  never  before  felt.  My  day's 
walk  had  been  from  Olympus  to  Hades  and  the  banks  of 
Lethe's  river. 

Lockhart's  kindness  emboldened  me  to  make  one  mor« 
trial.  I  had  still  another  poem — a  story  in  four  cantos, 
entitled  "The  Troubadour  of  Provence" — written  in  a 
Deeuliar  stanza  which  I  had  invented.     I  copied  a  fe^ 


44  AT  HOMB  AND  AQBOAD. 

pages  and  sent  it  to  him,  desiring  his  opinion  of  the  iorn: 
of  versification — not  without  a  secret  hope  that  he  might 
be  suflSciently  impressed  with  the  poem,  to  assist  me  in 
finding  a  publisher.    His  answer  was  as  follows : 

"  Dbar  Sib  :  No  form  of  stanza  can  interfere  seriously  with  the  effect  of 
i^ood  poetry ;  but  I  di  not  think  the  labor  implied  in  great  complicatioQ 
of  stanza  is  ever  likely  to  be  repaid.  As,  however,  your  poem  'is  done,  1 
can  only  bid  you  God-speed ;  and  I  am  sure  if  it  be,  as  a  whole,  as  good 
as  the  Eve,  it  will  have  a  most  encouraging  reception  hero  as  well  as  in 
America^  Bernard  Barton  lives  at  Woodbridge,  in  Suffolk ;  and  I  bavo 
no  doubt  he  will  be  gratified  in  hearing  from  you. 

"  Yours,  very  truly, 

J.  G.  LOCKHABT." 

"  Regent's  Pabk,  April  7,  1848. 

This  letter,  although  kind  and  considerate,  was  never 
theless  a  sufficient  hint  to  me.  "The  Troubadour  of 
Provence"  was  finally  laid  away  on  the  same  shelf  with 
"  The  Liberated  Titan,''  and  various  other  aspiring  produc- 
tions of  youth.  O,  the  dreams  we  dream  !  O,  the  poems 
we  write !  Kind  are  the  hands  which  hold  us  back  from 
rushing  into  print— tender  the  words  which  pronounce 
such  harsh  judgment  on  our  works !  For  a  year,  we 
proudly  curse  the  stupidity  of  our  advisers — for  ever  after- 
wards we  bless  them  as  our  benefactors.  Reader,  that 
knowest,  peradventure,  how  many  bad  poems  I  have  pub- 
lished, little  dreamest  thou  how  many  more  worse  ones  a  kip<? 
fate  has  saved  me  fi-om  offering  thee !  I  keep  them  still,  a« 
a  wholesome  humiliation  ;  but  they  serve  a  double  purpose 
They  humiliate  when  exalted,  but  they  encourage  wher 
depressed.  Therefore  they  have  not  been  written  in  vain 
but,  thank  Heaven,  they  have  onlj/  been  written  I 


▲  YOUiJG   AUTHOB'S  LIFJffi  IN   LONDON.  46 

Tliese  visits,  together  with  occasional  excursions  to  Chel 
Bea — where,  at  the  house  of  a  brother  of  Mrs.  Trollope,  1 
met  with  authors  and  artists — introduced  a  new  element 
into  my  London  life.  The  chop-house,  by  force  of  contrast, 
became  insufferable,  yet  I  could  not  afford  more  expensive 
odgings.  The  people  were  accustomed  to  my  reserve,  and 
respected  it :  at  another  place  they  might  be  more  curious 
And  so  I  remained,  to  hear  the  cases  of  crim.  con.  racily 
discussed,  to  see  continual  black  eyes  and  swollen  noses, 
and  be  greeted  with  the  little  servant's  whispered  informa- 
tion :  "  Goody  I  but  didn't  they  go  it  I"  Besides,  among 
my  acquaintances,  I  boldly  avowed  where  my  nightly 
quarters  were,  and  was  gratified  to  find  that  it  made  no 
difference  in  their  demeanor  towards  me.  In  London,  a 
man's  character  is  not  so  strictly  measured  by  his  place  of 
residence  as  it  is  in  New  York. 

For  six  weeks  1  continued  to  earn,  through  Mr.  Putnam's 
kindnens,  sufficient  to  defray  the  expenses  of  living.  By 
this  tmie  April  was  well  advanced,  a  remittance  arrived  to 
pay  mv  passage  home,  and  my  companions  came  on  from 
Paris  to  join  me.  One  by  one,  all  my  hopes  of  literary 
success  had  disappeared,  and  I  speedily  forgot  them  in  the 
joy  of  returaing  to  America.  Yet  I  doubt  whether  any 
fragment  of  my  life,  of  equal  length,  has  done  me  equa 
service.  I  have  seen  London  several  times  since  then,  have 
found  publishers  kinder,  and  have  associated  with  authors, 
without  blushing  for  my  place  of  abode  :  yet  I  never  visit 
the  great  city  without  strolling  down  Aldgate,  to  look  upon 
the  windows  of  the  chop-house  and  the  graveyard  below, 
in  which  lie  buried  the  ambitions  H reams  of  my  youth. 


V. 

THE    ATLANTIC. 


As  far  as  the  no  relty  of  the  thing  is  concerned,  one  inighi 
IS  well  write  an  account  of  a  trip  from  Canal  street  to 
Coney  Island,  as  of  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic-  The 
log-books  of  all  manner  of  tourists  have  made  everybody 
familiar  with  the  course  of  incidents  from  pier  to  pier :  the 
disappearance  of  one's  native  shore  and  the  coming-on  ot 
sea-sickness — ^touching  emotion  and  deadly  nausea — por- 
poises and  the  Gulf  Stream — fogs  on  the  Newfoundland 
Banks — perhaps  a  whale  or  a  vessel  within  hail,  and  then  a 
great  blank  of  blue  water,  over  which  the  voyager's  pen 
glides  with  scarce  a  word  of  record,  till  old  Mizen  Head  or 
Cape  Clear  comes  out  of  the  mist  and  inspires  him  with  a 
fresh  gush  of  romantic  sentiment.  It  is  not  so  common, 
however,  for  travellers  to  enjoy  the  trip,  unless  in  antio 
nation  or  remembrance.  For  my  part,  after  considerable 
experience  of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans,  the  Mediler- 


THE  ATLAJmc  4t 

ranean,  Caribbean,  and  Gulf  of  Mexico,  I  never  fully  "kaevf 
the  pleasures  of  sea-life,  nor  appreciated  the  endless  varietj 
and  beauty  of  sea-scenery,  until  I  left  home,  worn  in  body  and 
overworked  in  brain,  to  seek  rest  and  refreshment  in  travel. 

The  spirit  of  Work  infects  our  atmosphere :  we  cannot 
escape  the  malady.  Our  souls  are  pitted  and  scarred  with 
it,  and  there  is  no  vaccination  whereby  we  can  avoid  the 
disease.  If  you  once  plunge  into  the  stream,  you  must 
strike  out  with  the  boldest,  while  breath  and  nerve  remain. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  rest  inside  of  Sandy  Hook,  and  I 
felt  no  relaxation  of  the  unnatural  tension,  until  the  Gulf 
Stream  rolled  its  tropical  opiate  between  me  and  the 
maternal  shores.  Our  country  gives  us  everything,  but 
she  exacts  everything  from  us  in  return.  What  if  we  play 
truant  now  and  then  ?  what  if  we  fly  from  the  never- 
ending  task,  to  dream  a  Summer  day  in  the  quiet  air  of 
Europe,  or  the  lazy  languor  of  the  East  ?  We  leave  our 
household  gods  to  await  our  return,  and  we  pray  that  the 
um  which  is  to  hold  our  ashes  may  be  placed  beside  them. 

It  was  near  the  close  of  August  when  I  sailed.  There 
was  not  a  ripple  on  the  glassy  water,  nor  a  cloud  in  the 
sky,  and  the  Atlantic's  sentinels  slept  at  the  gates  of  the 
bay,  as  we  passed  them  at  night-fall.  For  three  or  four 
days  we  sailed  on  a  tropic  sea.  The  sun  came  up  flaming 
over  the  sharp  rim  of  the  horizon,  wheeled  around  his 
course,  and  sank  broad  and  clear  in  our  wake.  Our  great 
ship  rocked  gently  to  the  lazy  pulsations  of  the  ocean's 
heart — a  lulling,  not  a  disturbing  motion — and  we  jour« 
neyed  in  a  serene  and  perfect  repose.  "  Oh,  Rest  to  weary 
hearts  thoa  are  most  dear,"  sang  a  spirit  shut  ojt  ^om 


48  AT  HOME   AND  ABBOAD. 

Paradise ;  but  there  can  be  no  deeper  rest  than  that  which 
descends  alike  on  heart,  brain,  and  limbs.  One  must  have 
whirled  for  a  year  or  two  in  the  very  vortex  of  our  Ame- 
rican life,  to  taste  the  repose  of  the  ocean  in  its  refreshing 
fulness : 

"  Duty  and  Care  fade  far  away ; 

Wliat  Toil  may  be  we  cannot  guea? 
As  a  ship  anchored  in  a  buy 
As  a  cloud  at  summer  noon  astray, 
As  water-blooms  on  a  breezeless  day — 
So  the  heart  sleeps, 
In  thy  calm  deeps, 
And  dreams,  Forgetfulness  1" 

With  all  the  monotony  of  its  calm,  the  tranquil  expanse 
of  the  Ocean  is  infinitely  suggestive.  When  the  land  has 
disappeared,  your  vessel  is  a  planet  wheeling  its  way 
through  blue  ether.  But  it  is  a  planet  of  which  you  are 
the  creator,  and  at  your  will  its  orbit  may  touch  the  shores 
of  many  distant  regions,  passing  through  zones  of  heat  and 
cold,  of  light  and  darkness.  During  those  Summer  days, 
in  the  Gulf  Stream,  it  seemed  to  need  but  a  swerve  of  the 
prow  to  bring  all  the  lands  of  the  Old  and  New  Continentfl 
with  our  reach.  Cross  the  distant  ridge  of  the  horizon, 
glide  down  the  watery  slope  beyond,  and  you  touch  the 
Pillars  of  Hercules;  yonder  lies  Teneriffe  and  there  th 
jungles  of  Senegambia;  here  on  our  right,  under  the  noon 
day  Bun,  are  the  palms  of  Hayti,  the  perpetual  verdure  of 
the  Antilles.  When  the  fogs  of  Newfoundland  lift  like  all 
arch,  and  a  keen  northwester  comes  straight  down  from 
Labrador,  look  to  the  north,  and  you  will  hear  in  fjmcy  thf 


THB   ATLANTIC.  49 

hollow  booming  of  the  surf  in  Icelandic  Qords  and  caverna. 
At  least,  the  sound  came  to  my  ear  as  I  was  pacing  the  deck 
with  Mungo  Park,  and  listening  to  his  descriptions  of  life 
in  the  high  Arctic  region,  under  the  savage  shores  of 
Boothia,  and  among  the  ice-fields  of  Prince  Regent's  Inlet, 
it  was  not  the  ghost  of  the  African  traveller  that  told  me 
these  things,  but  his  near  relative,  the  worthy  Surgeon  of 
Lhe  steamship. 

One  must  cross  the  Atlantic  more  than  once,  before  his 
mind  can  take  in  a  satisfactory  idea  of  its  immensity.  On 
my  first  voyage  I  could  not  by  any  possibility  imagine  my- 
self more  than  fifty  miles  from  shore.  The  ship  went  on 
from  day  to  day,  but  for  all  that,  there  was  land  just  behind 
the  horizon.  Even  when  the  sight  of  the  Irish  Coast  gave 
me  a  vivid  sense  of  distance  from  home,  the  impression  was 
3ne  of  time,  not  of  space.  All  the  Atlantic  was  embraced 
in  one  horizon,  sometimes  calm,  sometimes  agitated,  but 
always  the  same  sphere  of  sky  and  water.  Now  it  is  a 
grand  and  beautiful  expanse,  over  which  I  cannot  leap  in 
thought  so  readily.  I  must  pass  great  tracts  of  smooth  and 
gently  undulating  water ;  dark,  wintry  wastes  flecked  with 
wreaths  of  snow ;  fogs  that  take  away  all  sense  of  place 
and  time ;  and  myriads  of  rolling  hills,  that  flash  and  foam 
and  sparkle  as  they  lift  the  vessel,  as  on  the  boss  of  a  vast 
shield,  till  I  can  look  over  the  blue  convex  to  its  outer 
edge.  Then  the  alternations  of  light  and  darkness,  each 
heightened  by  the  sea,  which,  spouse  of  the  sky,  copies  its 
lightest  change;  the  sunsets,  transmuting  both  water  and 
air;  the  bright  paths  trodden  by  the  moon — paths  which 
do  not  cease  at  the  horizon,  but  project  forward  beyond 


ftO  AT  HOMB  AJSm  ABROAD. 

the  earth,   into    the  mysterious   depths  of  the  heavena 
Whither  do  they  lead  ? 

At  sea,  you  look  on  the  life  from  which  you  have  emerged, 
as  one  looks  from  a  mountain  top  on  his  native  town. 
It  is  astonishing  how  fast  your  prejudices  relax  after  the 
land  has  sunk — how  the  great  insignificances  in  which  yon 
have  been  involved,  disappear,  as  if  they  had  never  beeni 
and  every  interest  of  real  value  starts  into  sudden  distinct- 
ness. If  the  brain  could  work  in  such  a  whirl  as  it  most 
bear  during  a  heavy  sea,  there  would  be  no  such  place  on 
shore  for  the  historian  and  the  philosopher.  But  the 
stomach,  unfortunately,  is  your  petted  organ;  you  must 
give  it  your  first  care.  Your  mental  enjoyment  must  be 
almost  entirely  of  a  sensuous  stamp.  You  take  in,  without 
stint,  the  glory  of  the  sea,  lose  yourself  in  delicious  reverie, 
start  a  thousand  tracks  of  thought  which  might  lead  to 
better  and  grander  truths  than  you  have  yet  attained ;  but 
you  cannot  follow  them.  The  spirit  is  willing,  but  the  flesh 
is  too  weak. 

With  such  enjoyments  as  these,  and  that  sense  of  rest, 
which  was  the  sedative  I  most  needed,  two  weeks  passed 
by  like  two  days.  There  was  scarce  an  apology  for  sea 
sickness  on  board,  and  not  a  word  of  complaint  on  account 
of  head-winds  and  rolling  seas.  Finally,  as  we  were  sailing 
on  a  cloudless  afternoon,  some  keen  eyes  among  us  discerned 
onnd  mountain-heads  and  rocky  islands  in  the  aur,  above 
the  horizon,  I  half  expected  to  see  them  melt  back  again 
into  the  vapor,  but  they  stood  fast  and  grew  clear  in  outline, 
and  point  came  out  behind  point  as  we  advanced,  till  we  ran 
onder  Fastnet  Rock  in  the  moonlight,  and  turned  the  oor 
ner  of  Gape  Clear. 


VI. 

RAMBLES   IN  WARWICKSHIRE. 

[8KPTEMBEB,    1861.] 


Few  Americans  leave  Liverpool  without  visiting  Chester 
As  the  only  walled  city  in  England,  dating  its  foundation 
from  the  Roman  invasion,  it  is  certainly  a  place  of  interest, 
but  neither  so  venerable  nor  so  peculiar  in  its  appearance 
as  I  had  imagined.  I  must  own,  however,  that  the  old 
towns  of  the  Continent  were  constantly  in  my  memory 
during  the  two  or  three  hours  I  devoted  to  its  steep  streets 
and  winding  walls.  The  only  things  on  which  I  looked  with 
real  interest  were  the  church  founded  by  Ethelred  the 
Saxon,  and  the  crumbUng  watch-tower  from  whose  top 
Charles  I.  watched  the  fortunes  of  the  battle  on  Rowton 
Moor.  The  walk  around  the  ramparts  was  charming.  Th 
warm,  silvery  haze  of  an  English  autumn  filled  the  air 
veiling  the  more  distant  of  the  Welsh  mountains,  but  soi^«i 


52  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

ing  the  graceful  outlines  of  the  nearer  hills  and  toncling 
with  the  gentlest  play  of  light  and  shadow  the  Valley  of 
the  Dee,  over  whose  waters  we  hang,  while  turning  the 
dharp  angles  of  the  bastions  on  the  southern  side. 
I  took  the  afternoon  train  to  Shrewsbury.  The  road 
asses  into  Wales  soon  after  leaving  Chester,  and  for  many 
miles  follows  the  hills  which  inclose  the  Allen,  a  tributary 
of  the  Dee.  The  country  is  hilly,  but  so  varied  in  its  fea 
tures,  so  picturesque  in  the  disposition  of  height  and  valley^ 
stream  and  wood,  so  trim  by  nature  and  so  luxuriant  by 
culture,  that  I  was  ready  to  regard  it  as  a  specimen  of  land- 
scape gardening  on  a  magnificent  scale.  Not  a  dead  bough 
encumbered  the  trees ;  not  a  patch  of  bare  soil  showed  the 
earth's  leanness.  The  meadows  were  smooth  enough  for  a 
fairy's  foot ;  the  streams  as  tranquil  and  pellucid,  as  if  only 

fit 

"  to  roll  ashore 

The  beryl  and  the  golden  ore ;" 

and  the  horses  and  cows  in  the  pasture-fields  were  appa- 
rently newly  washed  and  curried.  To  keep  up  the  impres- 
sion, at  the  Wrexham  station  we  found  a  crowd  of  Welsh 
youths  and  maidens  in  their  hohday  dresses,  as  the  great 
fair  had  just  commenced.  At  the  next  station  beyond,  we 
oassed  an  excursion  train  from  Shrewsbury,  a  mile  of  cars, 
mostly  open,  and  crammed  with  delighted  children,  to  whom 
ire  all  waved  our  handkerchiefs  in  return  for  their  shouts. 

Tlie  sun  dipped  his  crimson  disc  behind  the  moimtains, 
as  we  looked  into  the  renowned  Vale  ol  Llangollen,  in  pas* 
ing — a  stately  valley,  broad  at  first  and  rich  with  woods,  but 
narrowing  in  the  distance  and  lost  between  the  interlocking 


RAMBLES    IN    WARWICKSHIEB.  53 

bases  of  the  hills.  Then  twilight  came  on ;  the  chimney  ot 
a  furnace  flashed  here  and  there ;  white  mist  gathered  along 
the  streams,  growing  thicker  as  we  reached  the  Severn,  till 
the  chimes  of  "  Shrewsbury  clock"  rang  from  some  invisibltj 
station  in  the  air.  I  had  a  foggy  and  ghostly  sort  of  ram- 
ble in  the  streets,  getting  lost  in  all  kinds  of  dark  windings 
up  and  down  the  hill  on  which  the  town  is  buUt ;  so,  think- 
ing it  a  pity  to  spoil  such  an  appropriate  impression  of  the 
old  place,  I  left  for  Birmingham  in  the  morning.  Had  it 
not  been  for  a  German  pedestrian,  who  arrived  at  the 
'*  George  Fox"  just  before  I  left,  I  might  have  visited  the 
town,  so  far  as  my  recollection  of  it  is  concenied,  in  the 
time  of  Richard  III. 

The  face  of  the  country  became  more  monotonous  and 
the  soil  poorer,  as  we  approached  Birmingham,  From 
Wolverhampton,  a  large  manufacturing  town,  to  the  latter 
place,  a  distance  of  ten  or  twelve  miles,  we  passed  an  unbro- 
ken  range  of  ftirnaces,  forges  and  other  establishments  for 
the  manufacture  of  iron.  Scores  of  tall  chimneys  belched 
forth  volumes  of  red  flame  and  black  smoke,  like  so  many 
flues  piercing  down  to  the  central  fires.  Whether  from  this 
cause  or  not,  I  will  not  venture  to  say,  but  the  sky,  which 
was  mild  and  clear,  after  leaving  the  fogs  of  the  Severn,  be- 
came dark  and  lowering,  and  drops  of  rain  fell  at  times  on 
passing  through  this  district.  Beyond  Birmingham,  where 
Agriculture  gets  the  upper  hand,  we  found  the  sunshine 
again. 

The  appearance  of  Birmingham  from  the  railroad  viaduct 
is  most  uninvitmg.  The  only  relief  to  the  view  of  number 
less  blocks  of  dull  red  houses,  roofed  with  red  tiles,  is  afforded 


54  AT  HOME  AND   ABBOAD. 

by  tw^o  or  three  spires  and  a  multitude  of  fumaoe-ohim 
neys  in  the  distance.  I  left  the  Shropshire  train  at  the  sta- 
tion, took  another  for  Kenilworth,  and  in  less  than  an  hour 
gaw  the  "  three  tall  spires "  of  Coventry,  that  ancient  and 
beautiful  city,  where,  as  Leigh  Hunt  says,  "the  boldest 
naked  deed  was  clothed  with  saintliest  beauty."  I  saw 
two  pictures  as  I  passed :  one,  the  noble  Godiva,  trembling 
with  shame,  yet  upborne  by  her  holy  purpose,  as  her  palfrey 
clattered  through  the  hushed  streets:  the  other,  an  idle 
poet,  lounging  with  grooms  and  porters  on  the  bridge,  and 
weaving  in  his  brain  the  fit  consecration  of  that  deed. 

The  branch  road  for  Leamington  here  left  the  great  high- 
way to  London.  It  is  a  kind  of  railway-lane — a  single  track, 
winding  by  coimtry  ways,  between  quiet  hedges,  and  with 
the  grass  growing  up  to  the  edges  of  the  rails.  Every 
spare  shred  and  comer  of  ground  clipped  from  the  fields,  is 
a  little  garden-plot,  gay  with  flowers,  and  so,  with  less  re- 
gret than  the  sentimental  reader  would  suppose,  I  first  saw 
the  heavy  pile  of  ruined  Kenilworth  from  the  windows  of 
a  railroad  car.  The  castle  is  more  than  a  mile  distant  from 
the  station,  but  an  omnibus  was  in  waiting,  for  passengers. 
My  companion  and  I,  however,  preferred  a  foot-path 
across  the  fields,  leading  to  a  gate  in  a  wall  which  formed 
the  outer  defence  of  the  place.  As  it  happened  we  struck 
on  the  tilting-ground,  the  gree'^  level  of  which  we  followed 
to  Mortimer's  Tower,  entering  the  Castle  by  the  gate  ee 
lected  for  the  reception  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  Passing  th 
ancient  stables,  which  now  shelter  the  stock  of  the  farmer 
who  takes  care  of  the  property  for  the  Lord-Lieutenant  of 
Ireland,  its  present  owner  we  reached  the  porter's  lodge,  « 


RAMBLES    LN    WABWICKSHIBK.  Aft 

castle  in  iisdf,  and  still  in  admirable  preservation.  A  super» 
annuated  door-keeper  admitted  us  into  the  grounds  and 
then  went  to  call  the  guide,  who  was  working  in  the  gar- 
don.  The  latter  personage,  a  little  man  who  had  grown  old 
in  the  business,  changed  his  smock-frock  for  a  rusty  blue 
coat,  and  took  us  in  chaige. 

He  was  a  proper  guide,  and  so  familiar  with  his  points, 
that  I  doubt  whether  he  would  have  piloted  the  Lord-Lieu- 
tenant  (whom  he  never  named  without  touching  his  hat), 
in  any  but  the  regular  way.  Taking  us  to  the  centre  of 
the  lawn,  where  the  shattered,  ivy-grown  front  of  the  Cas- 
tle rose  grandly  before  us,  he  pointed  out  the  different 
groups  of  buildings  and  gave  us  the  date  of  their  erection. 
Then  he  bid  us  note  the  thickness  of  the  walls  in  the 
Caesar's  Tower  (the  oldest  part,  built  in  a  remote  and  un- 
certain period),  after  which  he  led  us  by  a  rough  path  into 
the  dungeon  where  Edward  U.  was  prisoner,  and  then  by 
a  well-worn  staircase  to  the  top  of  the  tower,  whence  we 
looked  down  on  a  broad  stretch  of  the  loveliest  meadow 
land,  dotted  with  flocks  of  sheep.  "  There,"  said  he,  "  in 
the  Earl  of  Leicester's  time,  was  a  lake  two  miles  long,  and 
all  the  land  you  see  to  the  right,  sirs,  thirty  miles  from  the 
Castle,  was  the  chase;  and  down  there,  where  the  haw- 
thorns and  crabs  is,  was  the  pleasure-garden."  "  Who  owns 
all  the  land  now?"  I  asked.  "The  Earl  of  Clarendon, 
Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ireland  "  (touching  his  hat),  "  and  he 
gets  £110,000  a  year  from  it;  but  he  never  comes  anigh 
it." 

Kenilwoith  has  been  described  so  often,  that  I  shall  spare 
you  an  account  of  what  was  once  the  banqueting  haU,  and 


56  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

Queen  Elizabeth's  dressing-room,  looking  down  on  th« 
lake,  and  the  Leicester  buildings,  the  most  ruined  of  ah 
though  the  latest  built.  All  parts  of  the  Castle  are  mantled 
with  the  most  superb  ivy,  thrusting  its  heavy  arms  between 
the  shattered  mullions,  climbing  the  towers  and  topping 
them  with  mounds  and  overhanging  cornices  of  dark, 
biilliant  green.  I  noticed  one  trunk  three  feet  in  diameter. 
Our  guide  did  not  permit  us  to  lose  a  single  feature  of 
the  ruin.  After  finishing  the  building,  he  .took  us  tht 
round  of  the  moat  wall,  and  pointed  out  the  most  pictu- 
resque effects.  He  knew  the  positions  to  a  hair's  breadth, 
and  it  was  in  vain  that  I  attempted  to  disregard  them.  I 
most  stand  with  my  back  to  the  wall,  and  my  feet  in  just 
such  a  spot.  "Now,"  said  he,  "look  between  John  o' 
Gaunt's  building  and  the  Leicester  building,  and  you'll 
catch  a  nice  bit  of  Caesar's  Tower."  He  could  not  go 
wrong,  for  the  ruins  are  beautiful  and  imposing  from  every 
direction  ;  they  are  the  crowning  charm  and  glory  of  one 
of  the  most  delicious  pastoral  landscapes  in  the  world. 

Warwick  Castle,  only  six  miles  distant,  offers  a  remarka- 
ble contrast  to  Kenilworth.  Like  the  latter,  the  date  of  its 
foundation  is  unknown,  and  its  most  ancient  part  bears  the 
name  of  Caesar's  Tower ;  but  while  Kenilworth  is  fast  tum- 
bling to  pieces,  it  remains  entire,  and  is  still  inhabited  in 
every  part.  The  father  of  the  present  Earl  expended  im 
mense  suras  in  restoring  and  improving  it.  The  groundt 
have  been  so  laid  out  and  planted,  that  the  Castle  is  not 
Been  from  any  part  of  the  town,  but  by  walking  to  the 
bridge  over  the  Avon,  one  may  obtain  a  grand  \new  of  ita 
embattled  fi-ont.    The  presentation  of  a  card  at  the  porter'i 


RAMBLRij:    IN   "WaBWICKSHIEK,  67 

lodge  was  sufficient  t  j  procure  us  admission.  A  carriage- 
road  cut  through  the  solid  rock,  with  a  fringe  of  fern  and 
an  arch  of  elms  high  overhead,  leads  to  a  narrow  lawn  in 
front  of  the  Castle.  The  only  perceptible  change  in  the 
exterior,  is  the  substitution  of  a  light  stone  arch  for  the 
drawbridge,  and  the  draining  of  the  moat,  which  is  now  a 
trough  of  velvety  grass,  with  flowering  shrubs  leaning  over 
it  from  the  sides.  The  portcullis  still  hung  in  the  gateway, 
snarling  at  us  with  its  iron  teeth. 

The  inner  court-yard,  however,  has  been  turfed  over, 
and  a  new  flight  of  granite  steps  leads  to  the  entrance  hall, 
in  the  southern  wing  of  the  Castle.  The  suite  of  state 
apartments  in  this  wing  is  333  feet  in  length,  and  built  with 
80  much  precision  that  when  the  doors  are  closed  one  may 
look  straight  through  all  the  key-holes  to  the  further  end. 
We  were  met  at  the  door  by  the  steward,  Mr.  Williams, 
who  conducted  tts  through  the  rooms.  The  old  house- 
keeper died  recently,  after  having  amassed  £30,000  from  the 
fees  of  visitors,  the  whole  of  which  she  bequeathed  to  the 
Warwick  family.  I  doubt  whether  Lord  Clarendon  will 
ever  receive  as  a  legacy  the  fees  taken  at  Kenilworth.  The 
state  apartments  are  all  that  b  generally  shown,  but  as  a 
friend  of  mine,  a  native  of  Warwick,  accompanied  me,  the 
steward  took  us  into  the  breaklast-room,  though  the  table 
was  already  set  for  the  Earl,  and  showed  us  the  celebrated 
Lions  of  Rubens,  several  tine  V^andykes,  and  an  original  por- 
trait of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  a  pale  and  beautiful  face,  expreso- 
ing  true  nobility  of  soul  in  every  feature. 

We   also   saw  the   armory,  which  is   usually  closed  t4 
Fisitors.     It  is  rich  in  ancient  armor  and  rare  and  curious 


68  AT  HOME  A^I>   ABBOikD. 

objects,  among  which  I  may  mention  the  crystal  hilted 
dagger  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  her  shirt  of  chain-mail,  her 
saddle  and  the  trappinejs  of  her  horse;  but  I  was  most 
Btruck  with  two  things :  a  revolving  musket^  more  than  two 
hundred  years  old,  and  a  mask,  taken  from  the  face  of 
Oliver  Cromwell,  after  death.  The  revolver  (of  the  anti- 
quity of  which  there  cannot  bo  the  slightest  doubt)  is 
almost  precisely  similar  to  Colt's,  having  a  single  barrel,  to 
which  is  attached  a  revolving  cylinder,  containing  six 
chambers.  There  is  a  flint  lock  and  pan  to  each  chamber, 
and  the  firing  of  one  discharge  brings  the  succeeding  cham- 
ber to  the  barrel.  I  had  been  aware  of  the  existence  of 
this  curious  weapon,  but  was  not  prepared  to  find  the  idea 
of  a  revolver  so  perfectly  developed. 

The  mask  of  Cromwell  was  found  a  short  time  since  in 
clearing  out  one  of  the  old  chambers  of  the  Castle,  where 
the  rubbish  had  been  accumulating  for  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years.  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  its  authenticity.  The 
face  is  that  of  Cromwell,  too  hard  and  rugged,  too  terribly 
inflexible  to  be  mistaken,  while  the  prominence  of  the  lai'ge 
eye-balls  in  their  sunken  cavities,  the  slight  sharpening  of 
the  features,  and  the  set  rigidity  of  the  grim  mouth,  show 
cleai'ly  that  the  mould  was  never  taken  from  living  flesh. 
Yet  there  seemed  a  kind  of  hard  satisfaction  in  the  expre» 
eion  of  the  face,  as  if  he  had  remembered  Dunbar  at  his 
death-hour.  Less  interesting  than  this  memorable  relic,  yet 
more  pleasant  to  behold,  is  Vandyke'n  portrait  of  Charles 
I.  on  horseback,  filling  up  the  end  of  a  long  gaJIeiy.  The 
forward  action  of  the  figure  and  the  foreshortening  of  the 
horse  are  so  admirable  tliat  you  stand  ready  to  return  the 


RAMBLES   IN    WARWICKSHIBB.  59 

ealutt  of  the  naudsome  Cavalier  King,  when  lie  shall  have 
ridden  a  few  paces  further. 

After  we  had  taken  a  too  hasty  glance  at  the  superl; 
paintings  on  the  walls,  and  the  exquisite  views  of  the  Avon 
from  the  windows,  we  returned  to  the  porter's  lodge, 
where  some  other  antiquities,  not  quite  so  well  verified, 
were  exhibited.  The  portress,  a  withered-looking  little 
woman,  took  her  stand  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  went 
through  her  part  after  this  wise : — "  This  here,  gentlemen, 
is  the  famous  porridge-pot  of  Guy,  Earl  of  Warwick,  as 
takes  forty  gallons  of  rum,  forty  gallons  of  brandy,  and 
five  hundred  pounds  of  sugar  to  fill  it  with  punch,  and 
was  filled  when  the  present  Earl  was  married,  likewise 
three  tunes  and  a  half  when  Lord  Brooke  came  of  age ;  and 
this  is  Guy's  sword"  (I  seized  and  shook  it,  but  forget 
whether  it  weighed  nine  or  twenty-one  pounds),  "and 
these  is  the  Spanish  lady's  shoes,  as  was  worn  by  Fair  Phyllis, 
Guy's  wife,  and  this  is  the  horn  of  the  dun  cow  Guy  killed" 
(it  was  a  whale's  rib!);  "and  these  is  the  boar's  tusks  he 
killed  and  was  knighted  for;  and  this  is  an  Indian  shield 
made  6f  bufialo  hide,  and  this  is  Guy's  flesh  fork,  as  he 
dipped  out  the  pieces  of  meat  with — hrrrr-r-r-r ." 

Here  she  stirred  up  the  porridge-pot,  ringing  such  a  peal 
%8  shook  the  lodge,  and  then,  fleshfork  in  hand,  stood  wait- 
mg  for  her  shilling.  Before  leaving,  we  took  a  shady  path, 
under  larches  and  Lebanon  cedars,  to  the  garden-house  in 
which  stands  the  renowned  Warwick  vase.  I  have  seen  no 
vase  comparable  to  this  in  the  blending  of  perfect  grace 
with  the  majesty  of  colossal  proportions.  Tlie  wi-eathe4 
?ine-stalks  at  its  sides,  the  full  vine-bunches  and  heads  of 


60  AT  HOMB   AND   ABROAD. 

the  laaghing  fauns  are  none  the  less  graceful  that  they  art 
magnified  beyond  nature. 

But  I  cannot  linger  in  the  beautifiil  groves  ofWirwiok, 
while  further  down  the  Avon,  girdled  by  green  meadowi 
and  embosomed  in  heavy-foliaged  elms  and  limes,  lies  happy 
Stratford,  blessed  beyond  all  other  villages  in  all  the  lands 
of  the  Saxon  race.  On  the  following  morning  I  clomb  to 
the  top  of  a  country  coach  and  was  whirled  down  Warwick 
Hill,  under  the  gateway  of  Leicester's  Hospital,  across  a 
level  tract  of  garden  ground,  and  up  a  swelHng  ridge — the 
summit  of  which,  as  we  drove  along  it  for  several  miles, 
commanded  wide  views  into  the  heart  of  Warwickshire — 
the  most  charming  agricultural  region  in  all  England.  To 
the  left,  beyond  the  Avon,  I  saw  in  the  distance  the  trees 
of  Charlecote  Park,  the  seat  of  the  Lucy  femily,  and  the 
spire  of  the  church  where  Sir  Thomas,  of  Shakspeare- 
punishing  memory,  lies  buried.  Through  alternate  groves 
of  elm,  oak,  and  beech,  and  fields  of  smooth,  fresh  mould 
or  smoother  turf,  dotted  with  clumps  of  hawthorn,  we 
descended  to  Stratford.  The  coach  drew  up  at  the  inn  of 
the  Red  Horse  (well  known  to  Geoffrey  Crayon),  and  I 
set  out  to  visit  the  haunts  of  Shakspeare. 

As  I  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  low,  dingy  cottage, 
where  even  princes  must  stoop  to  enter,  a  curious  English- 
man, who  had  just  arrived,  asked  the  old  woman  as  she 
bustled  out :  "  Do  you  allow  anybody  to  cut  a  piece  off  this 
board  ?"  at  the  same  time  laying  his  hand  on  a  rude 
counter  whi<;h  projected  into  the  street  from  the  open  shop 
window.  "  Bless  yon,"  said  she,  "  Shakspeare  had  nothing 
to  do  with  that.     The  butcher  who  ha<l  the  house  long 


KAMBLES  DT  WAEWICKSHIRB.  61 

after  him,  put  that  up."  In  answer  to  my  inquiry  whethei 
the  house  had  ever  been  damaged  by  hunters  of  relics,  she 
said  that  the  worst  instance  was  that  of  a  party  of  board- 
mg-school  girls,  who  asked  to  be  left  alone  in  the  room 
where  Shakspeare  was  born,  in  order  that  nothing  miglit 
iistnrb  their  impression  of  the  spot.  After  they  left,  a 
targe  square  block  was  foimd  to  be  out  from  the  mantel- 
piece. I  entered,  mounted  the  crazy  stairs,  and  saw  the 
sacred  room. 

I  had  a  note  of  introduction  from  my  Warwick  friend  to 
the  teacher  of  the  Stratford  Grammar  School,  which  is  the 
same  institution  where  the  boy  Shakspeare  was  taught, 
and  is  still  held  in  the  same  rooms.  I  found  the  teacher 
surrounded  by  a  pack  of  bright-looking  boys,  from  eight  to 
fourteen  years  of  age.  I  involuntai-ily  looked  in  their  faces 
to  find  something  of  Shakspeare.  It  seemed  impossible 
that  they  should  not  differ  from  other  children;  but  as- 
suredly they  did  not.  They  had  frank,  healthy  English 
faces,  but  the  calm,  deep,  magnificent  eyes  that  looked 
down  every  vista  of  the  marvellous  human  heart,  were  not 
there.  The  teacher  enjoined  quiet  on  them,  and  stepped 
out  to  show  us  the  old  desk,  in  a  room  on  the  ground  floor. 
This  desk  is  as  old  as  the  time  of  Shakspeare,  and  is  sup- 
posed to  have  belonged  to  the  master  of  the  school.  It  is 
a  heavy  affair  of  rough  wood,  such  as  I  have  seen  in  the 
eg  schoolhouses  of  our  own  country.  The  top  is  carved 
«rith  the  initials  of  the  scholars,  and  they  show  you  a  "  "W. 
S."  which  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  was  cut  by — William 
Smith. 

But,  notwithstanding,  Shakspeare  did  once  stand  beside 


02  AT   UOM£   AND    ABROAD. 

this  desk,  making  painful  conquests  of  "  the  rudiments,' 
and  perhaps  the  worn  lid  I  now  lift,  was  once  lifted  by  a 
merciless  "  master,"  to  take  out  the  ruler  destined  to  crack 
the  knuckles  of  William  himself.  Tlie  thing  is  absurd! 
Think  of  rapping  the  knuckles  of  Jupiter  I  We  can  only 
imagine  the  babyhood  of  Shakspeare  as  Lowell  has  de 
scribed  that  of  Jove: 

"Who  in  his  soft  hand  crushed  a  violet, 
Godlike  foremusing  the  rough  thunder's  gripe." 

The  teacher  kindly  obtained  us  admission  into  the  house 
and  gardens  of  Mr.  Rice,  a  surgeon,  who  lives  on  the  site 
of  a  house  built  by  Shakspeare,  after  his  retirement  from 
London.  The  foundations  and  a  single  corner  wall  remain 
the  same,  but  the  house  is  modern,  the  garden  is  changed, 
and  the  great  mulberry-tree  planted  by  Shakspeare's  hand 
( under  which  he  took  so  much  pleasure  in  the  sweet  sum- 
mer afternoons),  is  now  only  represented  by  a  grandchild — 
the  scion  of  a  scion.  Mr.  Rice  has  been  offered  £100  for 
the  privilege  of  digging  in  the  cellar  of  his  house,  in  the 
hope  of  finding  relics. 

My  last  visit  was  to  Trinity  Church,  on  the  Avon.  The 
meadows  along  the  river  were  flecked  with  soft  Ught  and 
sliadow  from  passing  clouds,  and  the  grave-stones  in  the 
church-yard  were  buried  warm  and  deep  in  thick  turf. 
The  gardens  beyond,  hid  from  my  view  the  road  to  Shot- 
tery,  where  Anne  Hathaway's  cottage  is  still  standing.  I 
approached  the  church  imder  a  beautiful  avenue  of  limes: 
the  door  was  open,  and  a  dapper  young  sho\\Tnan  had  four 
Englishmen  in  t  )w.     I  went  at  once  to  the  chancel,  where 


BAMBLES   LN    WABWICKSUIKB.  68 

the  bust  of  Shakspeare  looked  down  upon  me  from  the 
eastern  wall.  This  bust  is  supposed  to  have  been  copied 
from  a  mask  taken  after  death ;  Chantrey  unhesitatingly  do* 
clared  this  to  be  his  opinion.  One  of  the  eyes  seems  a  littl 
more  sunken  than  the  other,  and  there  are  additional  in- 
dications of  death  about  the  neck.  The  face  is  large,  serene, 
and  majestic — not  so  thin  and  young  as  in  the  Chandos 
picture,  nor  with  that  fine  melancholy  m  the  eyes,  which 
suggests  to  you  his  Hamlet.  In  contemplating  it,  Prospero 
at  once  recurred  to  me.  Thus  might  the  sage  have  looked 
after  he  had  broken  his  wand  and  renounced  his  art.  And 
Prospero,  one  of  Shakspeare's  grandest  creations,  was  at  the 
same  time  his  last. 

While  I  was  looking  on  that  wonderful  forehead,  the 
showman  rolled  up  a  piece  of  coarse  matting  spread  upon 
the  pavement,  and,  stepping  off  to  allow  it  to  pass,  I  found 
these  lines  under  my  feet : 

"Good  friend,  for  Jesus'  sake  forbear 
To  dig  the  dust  inclosed  here ; 
Blest  be  the  man  that  spares  these  stones, 
And  curst  be  he  that  moves  my  bonea" 

This  was  the  simple  and  touching  inscription  dictated  by 
himself  None  have  incurred  the  poet's  malediction  by  di* 
urbing  his  rest.  There  is  nothing  but  dust  under  the  ston 
ow,  but  that  dust  was  once  animated  by  Shakspeare's  souL 
Thank  God  that  in  this  irreverent  age  there  are  still  some 
spots  too  holy  to  profane,  some  memories  too  grand  and 
glorious  to  neglect!  I  could  have  knelt  and  kissed  th« 
dusty  slab,  had  I  been  alone.    The  profound  sadness  with 


64  AT   HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

which  the  spot  oppressed  me,  was  one  of  those  emotion& 
against  which  the  world  soon  hardens  us.  Too  subtle  and 
precious  to  be  called  up  at  will,  they  surprise  us  at  times 
with  the  jfreshness  of  a  feeling  we  had  thought  exhausted, 

"We  walked  back  to  Warwick  over  the  same  breezy  ridge 
and  in  the  evening,  with  our  friends,  sauntered  over  the 
fields  to  Guy's  Cliff.  The  family  were  absent,  but  a  house- 
keeper, flaunting  in  purple  satin,  refused  to  admit  us ;  so, 
after  watching  the  sunset  build  a  crimson  and  golden  oriel, 
at  the  end  of  a  long  chancel  of  arching  elms,  facing  the 
west,  we  descended  to  the  Avon,  climbed  into  Guy's  Cave, 
explored  the  damp  cloisters  cut  in  the  cliff,  by  the  brief 
light  of  lucifer  matches,  and  closed  the  evening  by  a  walk 
to  Leamington,  which  we  saw  to  great  advantage  by  min- 
gled gas  and  moonlight. 

Warwick  will  always  be  endeared  to  me  by  the  recoHeo- 
tion  of  the  kind  English  hospitality  I  received  within  its 
walls.  I  was  indebted  to  Frederick  Enoch,  a  young  "War- 
wickshire poet,  whose  volume  I  had  read  in  America,  for  two 
of  the  most  pleasant  and  memorable  days  of  my  travels. 

Before  leaving,  we  went  to  see  another  house,  scarcely 
less  interesting  than  "Warwick  Castle.  Few  Americans,  1 
presume,  have  heard  of  Charles  Redfern,  yet  there  are  not 
many  of  the  English  nobility  to  whom  his  name  and  person 
are  not  familiar.  If  any  sale  of  rare  and  curious  furniture, 
old  heirlooms,  jewelry,  or  other  objects  of  virtu,  takes  place 
anywhere  between  the  Alps  and  John  o'Groat's  house, 
Redfern  is  sure  to  be  there.  Does  any  Lord  want  to  make 
a  rare  and  costly  present  to  his  betrothed,  any  Dowager 
wish  to  surpass  some  other  Dowager,  in  the  attractions  of 


RAMBLES  m  WABWICKSHIRE.  65 

her  boudoir,  it  is  to  Redfern  he  or  she  applies.  Redfem 
who  began  life  with  scarce  a  penny,  was  Mayor  of  Warwick, 
and  had  a  house  crammed  from  top  to  bottom  with  the 
rarest,  most  miique  and  superb  articles.  There  is  barely 
room  to  get  up  and  down  stairs,  and  to  pass  in  and 
Dut  of  the  rooms.  Your  nerves  are  in  a  tingle  from  the 
time  you  enter  till  the  time  you  leave.  Stumble  in  the  en- 
try, and  you  will  knock  down  an  antique  bust;  open  the 
door  too  wide,  and  you  smash  a  vase  of  gilded  porcelain  ; 
lean  too  far  to  the  right,  and  you  shatter  some  urns  of  agate 
and  amethyst ;  to  the  left,  and  you  break  the  dressing-case  of 
Charles  L  Here  is  Cromwell's  mother,  taken  from  life ;  there 
a  Holbein  or  a  Salvator  Rosa ;  here  jewels  that  belonged 
to  Marie  Antoinette ;  there  the  spoils  of  twenty  palaces. 
The  whole  collection  must  be  worth  at  least  $75,000. 

Our  friend  declared  that  after  seeing  Redfem's  house,  we 
ought  to  visit  its  owner,  who  was  then  holding  Court  in  the 
Town  Hall.  So  we  entered  the  Court-room,  where  a  case 
of  some  kind  was  being  tried,  in  the  presence  of  forty  or 
fifty  spectators.  Our  friend  led  the  way ;  the  Mayor,  on 
the  bench,  made  a  sign  to  the  attendant  policemen.  "  Makp 
way !  make  way !"  cried  the  officials.  The  people  fell  back  ; 
the  case  was  suspended,  and  we  walked  up  to  the  bench 
amid  the  most  solemn  silence.  Mayor  Redfern,  however 
who  has  a  frank,  ruddy  face,  which  no  one  could  helj 
liking,  was  exceedingly  affiible,  and  put  us  quite  at  our 
ease  with  his  first  words.  We  did  not  suspend  justice  long . 
the  policemen  kept  the  way  clear,  and  we  made  our  exit  in 
state.  As  we  left  Warwick  an  hour  afterwards,  the  specta 
tors  had  no  chance  of  being  undeceived  as  to  our  rank. 


VII. 

A  WALK  FROM  HEIDELBERG  TO  NUREMBERG. 

[OCTOBER,    1861.] 


Part  L — The  Valleys  op  the  Nkckar  and  Kocheb. 

On  leaving  Frankfort,  I  decided  to  take  Nuremberg  id 
my  route  to  Vienna.  The  usual  track,  via  Stuttgard,  Ulm, 
and  Munich,  was  aheady  familiar  to  me,  from  having  lite- 
rally measured  the  whole  of  it,  step  by  step.  There 
remained,  however,  for  more  than  three-fourths  of  the 
distance,  a  new  route,  part  of  which  I  h:id  never  seen 
described,  and  which  the  guide-books  but  barely  hinted  at 
— that  nild,  hilly  region,  lying  between  Heidelberg  and 
Nuremberg,  and  watered  by  the  tributaries  of  the  Neckar 
and  the  Main.  This,  I  imagined,  would  amply  repay  the 
fatigue  of  a  foot-journey  and  the  additional  time  nnjuired 
to  explore  it.     With  two  companions,  I  made  the  necessary 


A   WALK   FBOM    HEIDELBEEG   TO    NUBBMBBBG.  61 

outlay  for  knapsacks,  forwarded  my  heavy  luggage  by  the 
post  to  Ratisbon,  and  left  Heidelberg  at  sunrise,  by  the  little 
Neckar  steamer.  The  first  four  miles  of  our  way  were 
familiar  to  me,  and  in  the  fresh,  cool  beauty  of  the  morn- 
ing, I  amused  myself  by  tracing  the  road  on  which  I  tra 
veiled  in  1845,  weary  and  foot-sore,  and  with  only  twi 
kreutzers  in  my  pocket.  Beyond  Neckargemtlnd,  the  bold, 
wooded  mountains  (now  touched  with  their  first  autimanal 
tints)  embrace  the  river  more  closely,  leaving  but  a  narrow 
strip  of  greenest  turf  next  the  water's  edge.  The  steamer 
bent  and  shook  as  she  worked  her  way  slowly  up  the  rapids. 
Three  tall  cranes  flew  before  us  from  point  to  point,  at 
times  alighting  on  the  grass  to  wait  our  approach. 

Opposite  Neckarsteinach,  which,  with  its  four  ruined 
castles,  sits  in  the  centre  of  a  semicircle  of  hills,  we  saw  the 
old  fortress  of  Dilsberg,  crowning  the  summit  of  an  isolated 
peak.  This  place  was  formerly  used  as  a  sort  of  State 
Prison  for  the  fractious  students  of  Heidelberg.  The  peni- 
tentiary system  in  those  days,  however,  must  have  been 
much  more  lenient  than  at  present;  for  it  is  related  that 
when  a  foreigner  of  distinction  once  visited  Dilsberg  and 
asked  pei'mission  to  see  the  fortress,  the  Supeiintendent 
answered  that  it  was  impossible  to  gratify  his  request,  the 
State  prisoners  being  then  on  a  tour  of  pleasure  througl 
the  Odenwald,  with  the  keys  in  their  pockets!  The 
N"eckar,  beyond  this  place,  presents  a  succession  of  charm- 
oig  landscapes.  Folded  lovingly  in  the  heart  of  the  raoun 
tains,  its  waters  now  mirror  the  rich  foliage  of  the  beech, 
ash,  and  maple,  now  the  dark  monotony  of  the  fir,  and  the 
open  and  smiling  beauty  of  the  fields  of  com  and  vine. 


68  AT    HOME   Ain>   ABBOAD. 

Hioagh  not  so  rioh  in  historic  interest  as  the  RLine,  nor  so 
bold  in  its  features,  its  landscapes  present  the  same  enchant* 
ing  variety,  touched  with  a  mellower  grace  and  a  tenderef 
human  sentiment.  Here  there  is  little  to  remind  one  of 
battle  and  bloodshed.  The  quiet  villages,  nestled  at  th« 
entrances  of  yet  virgin  valleys  winding  into  the  hills,  are 
dropping  to  pieces  only  by  age,  and  the  sombre  coloring 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  which  they  still  wear,  does  no  vio- 
lence to  the  peaceful  repose  of  the  cultivated  slopes  behind 
them. 

Among  the  passengers  on  our  little  craft  was  a  stont 
French  gentleman,  whose  musical  voice  and  exquisite  pro- 
nunciation of  his  native  tongue  attracted  me  to  him.  In 
the  course  of  our  conversation  he  confided  to  me  the  fact 
that  he  had  travelled  from  Liege  to  Heidelberg  with  Lola 
Montes,  and  had  arrived  at  the  latter  place  on  the  previous 
evening.  My  Frenchman  was  extravagant  in  his  admira- 
tion of  that  wonderful  woman ;  he  could  speak  of  nothing 
else.  "  BUe  est  une  femme  extraordinaire — vraiment  ex- 
traordinaire ! "  And  he  went  on  to  relate  to  me  several 
curious  incidents  whereof  he  was  witness.  He  then  pulled 
out  his  cigar-case  and  showed  me,  carefully  laid  away  in 
the  safest  comer,  two  delicate  white  cigaritos  which  the 
astonishing  Lola  had  made  with  her  own  hands  and  given 
to  him. 

We  passed  Eberbach,  a  fine  old  town,  situated  in  the  lap  of 
a  beautiful  amphitheatre  of  hills  and  overlooked  by  the  loftj 
Katzenhiuikel  (Cat's-Back),  the  highest  peak  of  the  Oden 
wald.  Beyond  this  feUne  hump,  which  is  arched  in  a  state 
of  perpetual  indignation,  the  mountains  are  lower  and  the 


A    VVAl.K    FSOM   HEIDELBERG  TO   NUBEMBEBG.  69 

Wild  woods  stand  back  to  give  place  to  the  vine.  At 
Neckarelz,  our  little  steamer  ran  her  nose  against  the  bank 
and  we  jumped  ashore  on  the  green  turf.  Following  a 
road  which  led  up  the  vaUey  of  the  Elz,  we  passed  through 
the  stately  town  of  Mosbach  and  took  a  by-way  leading 
over  the  hills  to  Mokmflhl,  in  the  valley  of  the  Jaxt.  Just 
as  we  gained  the  height,  the  sun,  which  had  been  obscured 
all  day,  broke  through  the  clouds  and  poured  over  the 
landscape  such  long,  golden  sunset-lights,  that  in  their 
splendor  the  ploughed  fields,  the  acres  of  turnips  and  beets, 
and  even  the  stones  piled  by  the  wayside,  were  glorified  and 
imbued  with  celestial  beauty.  But  soon  the  shadows  grew 
longer  and  cooler,  and  night  came  on  as  we  reached  a  little 
village  called  Billigheim,  sunk  in  a  deep  valley. 

We  found  beds  at  a  country  wirthahmis  called  the 
"  Golden  Stag,"  and  took  our  places  in  the  guests'  room, 
between  two  tables  full  of  Baden  soldiery.  The  landlord, 
who  brought  us  our  supper,  entered  into  conversation,  and 
I  asked  him,  among  other  things,  whether  the  castle  of  old 
Goetz  von  Berlichingen  was  not  still  standing,  near  Jaxt- 
hausen.  "Ah,  you  know  him,  then!"  said  he,  and  his 
eyes  sparkled  so  suddenly  that  I  was  delighted  to  find  so 
much  enthusiasm  for  the  name  of  Goetz,  among  his  native 
hills.  "  Of  course  I  know  him,"  I  replied  ;  "  who  does 
not?"  "Then  you  are  going  to  visit  him,"  he  rejoined  ; 
"but  is  it  true  that  he  is  about  to  enter  the  Austrian 
service  ?  "  I  made  no  answer,  quite  taken  aback  at  being 
so  misunderstood  ;  but  very  soon  the  landlord  returned, 
and  lifting  his  cap,  asked;  "  Perhaps  the  gentlemen  would 
prefer  wine  of  an  old  vintage  ?  "     Of  course  nothing  could 


70  AT  HOME   AND  ABROAD. 

be  too  good  for  the  friends  of  Berlichingen.  Onr  suppef 
which  was  nearly  ready,  was  delayed  in  order  to  be  served 
up  in  snch  state  as  the  inn  afforded,  and  the  landlady,  who 
had  rather  neglected  us,  came  up  ndth  a  smiling  face  and 
at  down  to  talk  about  our  distinguished  acquaintance. 
And  80  you  are  going  to  visit  the  Herr  von  Berlichingen?'' 
"  Your  husband  has  misunderstood  me,"  I  said ;  "  it  is  not 
the  young  Herr  that  I  know,  but  the  old  knight,  Goetz — 
the  one  with  the  iron  hand." — "  Ah,"  said  she,  "  I  never 
saw  A^m."  However,  we  were  indebted  to  the  grand  old 
Qoete  for  a  gool  supper,  and  fresh  sheets  on  our  beds: 
wherefore  we  blessed  his  memory. 

At  daybreak  next  morning,  we  resumed  our  knapsacks 
It  had  rained  in  the  night,  and  the  by-road  was  very  slip 
pery,  but  after  crossing  the  border  into  Wtlrtemberg,  we 
found  a  better  path,  leading  down  through  forests  of  beech 
and  oak  into  the  green  meadows  of  the  Jaxt.  At  Mock 
mtlhl,  where  we  stopped  for  breakfast  in  a  queer  old  inn, 
the  landlord,  finding  we  were  Americans,  instantly  ran  out, 
and  after  a  few  minutes'  absence,  brought  with  him  % 
strong,  intelligent  young  man,  who  was  to  leave  for  Ne# 
York  next  day,  with  his  wife.  He  was  accompanied  by  a 
soldier  and  an  old  bauer,  and  all  three  plied  me  with  qm*- 
tions  respecting  our  country,  its  laws,  and  institutions. 
What  most  troubled  the  old  bauer,  was  the  news  which  he 
Uad  somehow  received,  that  nobody  was  allowed  to  ^ 
down  in  an  American  inn,  but  each  one  must  drink  his  beer 
standing,  and  immediately  walk  out.  I  gave  the  young 
fSiigrant  all  the  information  wliich  I  thought  would  be  of 
service  to  him.    Not  only  here,  but  at  every  place  where 


A     WALK     FROM  HEIDELBERG     TO     NUREMBERG.  11 

we  stopped,  many  persons  had  left  or  were  about  leaving. 
The  landlord  at  Mockmiihl  said  that  things  were  much 
worse  since  the  Revolution.  "There  is  no  more  confi- 
dence," said  he;  "those  who  have  money  hoard  it  up, 
through  fear  of  more  troubles.  Money  is  therefore  very 
scarce,  and  the  poor  people  suffer.  Besides  this,  the  laws 
are  harder  upon  us  than  they  were;  everything  goes  badly, 
and  nobody  is  satisfied." 

After  striking  the  Jaxt,  a  bold,  rapid  stream,  coursing 
round  abrupt  points  and  through  wide  amphitheatres  of 
vine-hills,  we  followed  its  banks  for  several  miles,  passing 
a  succession  of  emerald  meadows,  starred  with  the  blos- 
soms of  the  colchicum.  The  views  up  and  down  the 
stream  were  remarkably  lovely.  In  one  place  we  passed 
along  the  sides  of  a  natural  amphitheatre,  half  a  mile  in 
diameter.  The  stone  terraces  built  for  the  vines  might 
have  served  for  regular  rows  of  seats,  fi-bm  which  five 
hundred  thousand  spectators  could  look  on  the  tilting- 
ground  of  the  beautiful  plain  below.  At  Jaxthausen,  an 
ancient  and  picturesque  village  on  the  right  bank,  we 
halted  to  see  the  Castle  of.  Berlichingen,  in  which  Goetz 
was  born,  and  where  he  spent  most  of  his  days.  It  is  a 
plain,  square  structure,  still  retaining  its  moat  and  draw- 
bridge, though  the  buildings  are  beginnmg  to  show  the 
wear  of  five  centuries.  The  village  magistrate,  who  wiis 
a  student  at  Heidelburg  in  '45,  and  knew  some  friends  of 
mine,  gave  us  admission  into  the  chapel  and  rittersaal.  Ii 
the  former  place — a  dark,  dusty  chamber — he  showed  us 
a  flag  borne  in  the  battle  of  Lutzeii,  the  wooden  forks 
ind  spoons  of  some  of  the  Crusaders,  the  sword,  stiriupa^ 


12 


AT   HOMX   AND    ABROAD. 


bridle,  battle-axe,  and  lastly,  the  Iron  Hand  of  Goetz  von 
Berlichingen.  This  remarkable  relic  has  just  been  restored 
to  the  Castle,  the  family  having  taken  it  with  them  to 
Ludwigsburg,  whither  they  fled  during  the  Revolution  oi 
1848.  It  is  a  steel  hand,  of  beautiful  workmanship,  with 
a  gauntlet  of  the  same  metal  reaching  nearly  to  the 
elbow,  by  which  it  was  fitted  to  the  stump  of  the  right 
arm.  The  fingers  opened  and  closed  by  spnugs  in  the 
wrist,  which  are  now  useless;  the  thumb  is  still  perfect, 
and  bends  its  iron  joints  with  the  greatest  readiness. 
With  the  hand  is  preserved  a  portrait  on  glass  of  itf 
owner — ^a  heavy  Saxon  face,  but  firm,  true,  and  resolute 
enough  in  its  expression  for  him  who  was  called  "  The 
Last  of  the  Knights." 

After  leaving  Jaxthausen,  we  crossed  a  high  and  narrow 
plateau  of  grazing  land,  and  descended  by  a  wild  glen  into 
the  valley  of  the  Kocher.  For  the  rest  of  the  day,  our 
road  led  up  the  stream,  through  the  most  enchanting 
scenery.  For  rich  pastoral  beauty,  I  know  of  no  valley 
in  Germany  surpassing  the  Kocherthal.  Sunk  deep  be- 
tween mountains  which  are  covered  with  vine-terraces  tc 
their  very  tops,  the  river  has  yet  no  bold  and  abrupt 
l)anks,  but  wanders  with  a  devious  will  through  long 
reaches  of  level  meadow-land,  green  and  flowery  as  in 
mid-May.  Every  turn  of  the  hills  opened  to  us  a  new 
vallfiy,  each  ^vith  a  little  town  in  its  centre.  These  towns, 
^hich  occur  at  intervals  of  half  a  league,  preserve  entire 
the  walls  and  towers  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and,  to  all 
appearance,  no  new  building  has  been  erected  in  them 
for  centuries.    The  Kocherthal  lies  in  the  heart  of  a  region 


A   WALK  FEOM   HETOKLBEKG  TO   KUBKMBEEQ.  73 

wluch  is  touched  by  no  modern  route  of  travel,  and  pre" 
serves,  with  scarce  a  change,  a  faithful  picture  of  Ancient 
Germany. 

Towards  sunset,  we  climbed  the  side  of  a  long  hill, 
whence  we  could  overlook  the  valley  for  many  a  league 
before  and  behind  us.  At  our  feet  lay  the  town  of  Kiin 
elsau,  half  embosomed  in  forests  which  descended  from 
the  rugged  heights  in  its  rear.  The  massive  white  front 
of  a  castle  belonging  to  the  Prince  of  Ehringen,  rose 
above  the  banks  of  the  Kocher,  domineering  over  the 
dark,  pointed  gables  and  mossy  roofs  of  the  old  place. 
A  mountain  stream,  leaping  from  the  forests,  passes  into 
the  streets,  roars  through  an  arch  under  the  Rathhaus  at 
the  head  of  the  public  square,  where  two  flights  of  stone 
steps  lead  down  to  its  bed,  and  then  disappears  under 
the  pavement.  We  saw  but  little  of  the  town,  for  it  was 
dark,  and  we  were  somewhat  stiff  from  a  walk  of  twenty- 
five  miles.  At  the  "  Bell "  (to  which  inn  I  would  recom 
mend  all  tourists  visiting  Kiinzelsau)  we  found  rest  and 
refreshment. 

We  left  the  Kocher  at  dawn,  and  crossed  a  stretch  of 
cold  upland  to  Langenburg,  on  the  upper  waters  of  the 
Jaxt,  where  we  breakfasted.  The  Piince  of  Langenburg, 
whose  castle  crowned  a  bluff,  high  above  the  stream,  is  a 
brother-in-law  of  Prince  Albert.  This  was  told  me  by  the 
landlord,  who  also  showed  me  a  stag's  head,  with  a 
superb  pair  of  seven-branched  antlers.  The  stag,  he  said, 
was  the  last  of  all  those  with  which  the  forests  around 
had  formerly  been  filled.  Once  it  was  a  common  sight 
to  see  groups  of  eight  or  ten  on  the  hills ;  bat  that  waa 


74  AT   HOME  Ain>  ABROAD. 

before  the  Revolution  of  1848:  When  the  noblemen  fled 
to  the  fortresses,  the  deer  had  no  keepers,  and  were  all 
chased  and  slaughtered.  This  stag  alone  was  left,  and 
for  two  seasons  the  hunters  had  been  on  his  track.  Only 
two  w  leks  before  they  had  brought  him  to  bay  for  the 
tirst  time,  and  slain  him.  Some  of  his  meat  was  in  the 
house,  and  I  might  have  a  steak  served  up  in  princely  style 
iflUked. 

The  rest  of  the  day's  journey,  for  more  than  twenty 
miles,  lay  across  a  high  and  somewhat  barren  table-laud 
dividing  the  waters  of  the  Neckar  from  those  of  the  Main. 
The  land  is  devoted  principally  to  grazing  and  the  more 
hardy  kinds  of  grain  and  vegetables,  but  here  and  there  the 
road  skirts  fine  forests  of  fir.  The  villages,  which  are  rare, 
are  small,  and  have  an  aspect  of  poverty.  We  learned, 
too  late  to  take  advantage  of  the  information,  that  the 
great  Fair  of  Roth-am-See  was  being  held  in  the  meadows 
of  Musbach,  not  more  than  a  league  out  of  our  way.  This 
Fair,  which  has  been  held  on  the  same  meadow  for  several 
centuries,  is  probably  the  most  peculiar  in  Germany,  as  it 
is  frequented  principally  by  the  peasants  of  Suabia  and 
Franconia,  and  exhibits  many  curious  usages,  which  else- 
rt'here  have  passed  away. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  after  enduring  two  or  three  show- 
ers, we  saw,  under  a  dark  and  gusty  sky,  the  towero  of  the 
venerable  City  of  Rothenburg.  It  was  appai'ently  built  on 
a  rise  in  the  plain,  but  on  approaching  nearer,  we  found 
that  its  walls  overhung  the  brink  of  a  deep  gorge,  at  the 
bottom  of  which  flows  the  Tauber,  a  tributary  of  the 
Main.     Even  from  the  little  I  saw  of  it  on  approaching 


A    WALK  FKOM   U£LDELBEKG   TO    NUBEMBEBG.  7fi 

I  felt  sure  it  would  richly  repay  a  longer  tramp  than  we 
had  made.  Everything  about  it  is  fresh  and  unhackneyed. 
The  landlord  said  we  were  the  first  native  Americans  he 
ever  saw,  and  requested  us  to  write  our  names  in  Lis  book 
at  the  top  of  a  new  lea£ 


VIII. 

A  WALK  FROM  HEIDELBERG  TO  NUREMBERG. 

(OOTOBEB,  18B1.] 


PaET  n. ROTHENBURG  AND  NUREMBERG. 

RoTHENBUBG — ^the  name  of  which  is  scarcely  mentioned  in 
guide-books — ^is  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  remarkable 
places  in  all  Germany.  Founded  before  the  year  800,  and 
till  the  twelfth  century  under  the  dominion  of  the  Counts 
of  Rothenburg,  it  was  for  seven  hundred  years  a  Free  City 
of  the  German  Empire,  having  under  its  jurisdiction  one 
hundred  and  forty-three  villages,  and  was  only  incorporated 
with  Bavaria  in  the  beginning  of  the  present  century.  As 
the  chief  city  in  the  old  province  of  Mittel-Franken  (Mid- 
Franoonia),  it  has  always  been  an  important  place,  and 
through  its  present  isolated  position  (being  at  some  dis 
tance  from  any  travelled  route),  still  preserves  much  of  its 
ancient  appearance  and  character.     These  facts  I  leame<? 


A  WAiK   FBOM    HEIDELBEEG  TO    NUREMBSlMy.  1*1 

from  Herr  Wolf^  the  landlord  of  the  "  Golden  Stag,"  an 
we  leaned  out  of  the  rear  window  of  his  house,  on  the 
evening  of  our  arrival.  The  inn  is  built  against  the  city 
wall,  and  our  window  looked  down  into  the  deep  and 
rugged  gorge  of  the  Tauber.  The  old  fortress  of  Roth- 
enbnrg  formerly  crowned  the  very  point  of  the  headlau'l, 
around  which  the  river  winds,  almost  insulating  the  city, 
and  making  it,  except  on  the  side  towards  the  table-land, 
next  to  impregnable. 

Herr  Wolf  first  directed  our  attention  to  an  old  house 
on  the  headland,  which  was  built  in  the  eighth  century. 
He  then  informed  us  that  when  the  Rothenburg  knights 
returned  from  the  Crusades,  they  were  struck  with  the 
singular  resemblance  between  the  position  of  the  city  and 
that  of  Jerusalem — a  resemblance  to  which  many  later 
travellers  have  testified.  The  Tauber,  far  below  us,  was 
the  Brook  Kedron ;  opposite  rose  Mount  Olivet ;  further 
down  the  gorge  was  the  Pool  of  Siloam,  and  directly  under 
us  a  little  chapel  marked  the  site  of  Gethsemane.  Near 
it  stands  an  old  church,  now  disused,  to  which,  in  former 
times,  multitudes  made  their  pilgrimage.  The  localities 
were  carefully  compared  with  Jerusalem,  and  a  new  Vta 
Dolorosa  was  made  along  the  sides  of  the  hill,  with  twelve 
shrines  representing  the  twelve  places  where  Christ  rested 
under  the  weight  of  the  cross.  I  could  still  trace  the 
path,  though  the  shrines  are  gone,  and  the  pilgrims  come 
no  longer.  The  ghostly  old  church  is  now  called  the 
Kbboldskeller  (Cellar  of  the  Gnomes). 

The  landlord  related  to  me  a  curious  incident  connected 
with  the  later  history  of  Rothenburg.     "  The  city,"  said  he, 


T8  AT   UOM£  AND  ABBOAD. 

"was  once  besieged  by  Tilly  and  Wallenstein,  but  tbt 
Senate  and  citizens  made  such  a  stubborn  resistance  that 
it  was  taken  with  great  difficulty.  Tilly  was  so  incensed 
against  the  Burgomasters  on  this  account  that  he  ordered 
them  all  to  be  beheaded  and  the  city  razed  to  the  ground 
Nevertheless,  they  received  him  and  Wallenstein  in  the 
great  hall  of  the  Hathhaus,  and  had  the  finest  old  Taabei 
wine  brought  up  from  the  cellar.  The  Emperor's  goblet 
was  on  the  table,  and  Tilly  drank,  and  Wallenstein  drank, 
till  the  liquor  softened  their  iron  mood.  '  You  have  good 
liquor,'  said  Tilly,  '  and  no  donbt  good  drinkers,  too.  If 
any  of  you  will  drain  this  cup  (lifting  the  Emperor's  gob- 
let, which  held  about  seven  quaits)  he  and  his  comrades 
shall  be  pardoned,  and  I  will  spare  the  city.'  The  chief 
Burgomaster  was  already  on  his  way  to  execution,  and 
there  was  no  time  to  lose.  Thereupon,  Herr  Nusoh,  one 
of  the  Senate,  filled  the  mighty  bowl,  and  lifting  it  to  his 
mouth  with  both  hands,  drank  it  dry,  without  stopping  to 
take  breath.  Tilly  was  as  good  as  his  word.  A  messen 
ger  was  at  once  dispatched  to  stay  the  execution  ;  and  the 
street  where  he  met  the  Chief  Burgomaster  on  his  way  to 
death,  is  called  the  Freudengasse  (Street  of  Joy)  to  this 
very  day." 

We  tried  the  Tauber  wine  with  our  supper,  and  fonnd  it 
light,  pure,  and  pleasant.  Still,  I  should  rather  let  the 
headsman  be  summoned  than  perform  Burgomaster  Nusch's 
feat  During  the  evening,  a  number  of  persons  called  at 
the  inn,  apparently  to  drink  beer  and  smoke,  biit  in  reality 
to  see  and  question  the  Americans.  I  did  ray  best,  talking 
in  an  atmosphere  of  bad  tobacco  till  near  midnight,  bat 


A  WALK   FROM    HEIDELBERG   TO   NUREMBERG.  79 

my  endurance  was  not  equal  to  their  curiosity.  The  fact 
of  my  having  seen  California  was  almost  incredible  to 
them.  "  Really,"  said  a  fat  Rothenburger  merchant,  "  thig 
is  the  most  interesting  thing  that  ever  happened  to  me." 

Early  next  morning,  one  of  the  teachers  in  the  City 
School  called  to  accompany  us  through  the  city.  The 
weather  was  dull  and  rainy,  and  we  had  only  time  to 
visit  the  principal  places  We  went  first  to  the  Rath* 
haus,  passing  on  our  way  a  quaint  building  with  a  richly 
ornamented  gable,  in  which  Sultan  Bajazet  lodged  when 
on  his  visit  to  the  German  Emperor.  The  Rathhaus  has 
a  stately  front  in  the  Italian  style,  a  curious  winding  stair- 
case, and  the  dark  old  hall  in  which  Tilly  drank  with  the 
Senate.  Our  conductor  led  us  through  many  dusty  cham- 
bers to  a  steep  wooden  stairway  mounting  into  the  tower. 
After  a  long  journey,  we  came  into  a  little  hot  room,  nearly 
half  of  which  was  occupied  by  a  German  stove.  The  only 
inhabitants  were  an  old  man  and  a  clock.  The  former 
placed  a  ladder  against  the  ceiling,  opened  a  trap-door,  and 
disappeared  through  it.  I  squeezed  through  after  him,  felt 
the  rain  dash  in  my  face,  and  then  turned  away,  faint 
with  the  giddy  view.  The  slight  parapet  around  the  top 
of  the  tower  overhung  its  base,  and  in  the  wind  and 
driving  mist  I  seemed  swinging,  not  only  over  the  city, 
but  over  the  chasm  far  below  it.  Beyond  this,  and  across 
its  rugged  walls,  I  looked  out  on  the  wide  sweep  of  the 
plain,  bounded  on  the  east  by  a  misty  range  of  hills.  Sa- 
vage and  strange  as  the  landscape  was,  I  had  scarcely  nerve 
enough  to  bear  the  sight. 

The  Church,  which  we  visited,  dates  from  the  fourteenth 


60  AT  HOa£B  AND  ABfiOAD. 

century,  and  its  interior  is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  the  pnr* 
Gothic  style.  It  is  in  complete  preservation,  and  still 
contains  the  altar-piece  by  Wohlgemuth,  master  of  Albert 
Durer,  and  fine  carvings  in  wood  by  the  old  sculptor 
Herlen.  Our  conductor  was  acquainted  with  a  phy  ician 
of  the  city,  who  possesses  the  famous  goblet  of  ^ach  1 
spoke,  and  was  kind  enough  to  take  us  to  see  it.  The 
Doctor's  sister  received  us  cordially,  and  brought  the 
precious  relic  from  its  place  of  safety.  It  is  an  immense 
glass  tankard,  about  fourteen  inches  high  and  six  in  diar 
meter,  with  paintings  of  the  Emperor,  Kings,  Electors, 
and  Bishops  of  Germany.  I  asked  the  lady  what  was  the 
eft'ect  of  such  a  draught  on  Burgomaster  Nusch,  from 
whom  she  was  descended.  She  said  that,  according  W  the 
account  preserved  in  the  family,  he  slept  two  days  and  two 
nights,  after  which  he  awoke  in  good  health,  and  lived 
seven  years  afterwards  to  enjoy  the  gratitude  of  his  fellow 
Burgomasters. 

As  the  rain  continued,  we  hired  a  carriage  for  5  florins 
(about  $2),  to  convey  us  to  Anspach,  a  distance  of  ttventy- 
fiye  miles.  The  road  lies  through  a  barren,  upland, 
crossed  by  two  or  three  ranges  of  hills,  covered  with 
forests  of  fir.  The  driver  informed  me  that  the  land  was 
costly  in  spite  of  its  indifferent  quality,  and  that  thia 
year  nearly  every  crop  was  bad  Wheat  is  already  double 
the  usual  price,  and  the  poor  people  begin  to  feel  the 
effects  of  it.  Here,  too,  many  were  leaving  for  America, 
and  he  (the  driver)  would  go  if  he  had  money. 

Anspach,  formerly  the  residence  of  the  Margraves  of 
Anspach  and  Baireuth,  is  a  dull  town  of  about  ten  thon 


A     WALK     FROM     HEIDELBERG     TO     NUREMBERG.  81 

sand  inhabitants,  but  has  a  magnificent  Besidenz  and  gar- 
dens. While  our  carriage  was  getting  ready  for  Nurem- 
berg, we  took  a  walk  in  the  superb  avenues  of  lindens, 
now  gleaming  golden  in  their  autumnal  leaves.  This  park 
has  a  singular  and  melancholy  interest  from  the  fact  that 
Caspar  Hauser  was  stabbed  here  on  the  14th  of  I)ecember, 
1833.  In  a  lonely  corner,  hidden  by  thickets  which  always 
keep  the  place  in  shadow,  we  found  the  monument,  a  plain 
shaft  with  these  words,  and  no  more :  "  Mic  ocadtis  occulta 
occisus  est.''''  The  name — which  you  always  pronounce  in 
an  undertone  in  Germany — is  not  mentioned.  And  yet, 
but  for  the  deed  here  commemorated,  Caspar  Hauser  (ac- 
cording to  the  secret  popular  belief)  would  have  been  Grand 
Duke  of  Baden  at  this  day.  We  may  well  shrink  from 
lifting  the  veil  which  covers  the  mystery  of  his  life,  when 
it  conceals  a  strange  and  terrible  tale  of  crime.  A  for 
paces  distant  is  the  monument  of  the  poet  Uz,  a  pillai 
crowned  with  his  bust.  When  a  child,  I  read  an  account 
of  the  murder  of  Caspar  Hauser,  at  the  time  of  its  occur- 
rence, and  while  standing  on  the  spot,  every  word  of  the 
Btory  came  back  to  my  memory. 


"  If  one  the  German  land  would  know, 
And  love  with  all  his  heart, 
Then  let  hihi  go  to  Nuremberg, 
The  home  of  noblest  art." 

8c  says  an  old  song  by  Schenkendorf,  and  so  say  1^ 
aharmed  with  the  little  I  have  seen  of  Nuremberg.  Nc 
OQO  knows  Germany,  who  has  not  visited  this  place.    In 


88  AT    U03CE   AUD   ABBOAD. 

Other  dties  you  see  the  ruins  of  German  Art  and  Germu 
life  in  the  Middle  Ages ;  here  you  see  that  Art  still  pre 
served,  that  life  still  vital  in  all  its  quaint  forms  and 
expressions  You  are  not  reminded  of  the  Past,  for  you 
live  in  it.  It  requh-es  as  great  an  effort  to  I'ecall  the 
Present,  as  it  does  elsewhere  to  forget  it.  And  the  age 
into  which  you  step,  on  leaving  the  Nineteenth  Century 
which  has  steamed  you  hither  (for  the  railroad  brushes 
the  walls,  but  dares  not  pierce  them),  is  not  stern  or  harsh 
in  its  aspect.  Its  ruder  outlines  are  softened,  its  shadowy 
places  glorified,  by  the  Divine  light  of  Art.  With  its 
crook(>d  streets,  grotesque,  pointed  gables,  and  peaked  roofs, 
wandering  uito  a  bewildering  variety  of  outlines,  Nurem- 
berg still  ministers  to  that  passion  whereof  it  was  once  the 
chosen  seat — the  love  of  the  Beautiful.  Painting,  Poetry, 
and  Sculpture  once  dwelt  here,  and  their  sign-manual  is 
Beauty — Beauty  in  one  of  her  wayward  moods,  it  is  true, 
but  none  the  less  dear  to  those  who  love  her  under  all 
her  forms. 

The  only  objects  in  Nuremberg  that  appear  old  are  the 
tombstones.  Albert  Durer's  house,  on  the  hill,  under  the 
walls  of  the  Castle,  keeps  its  rich,  red  coloring,  its  steep 
gable  mounting  up  into  a  picturesque,  overhanging  balcony, 
and  its  windows  of  stained  glass,  as  if  he  were  still  within, 
ready  to  welcome  his  friend  Willibald.  As  you  walk  the 
streets,  you  think  of  him  as  a  living  man ;  but  his  slab  in  the 
ehurch-yard  of  St.  John  is  covered  with  the  moss  of  three 
hundred  years.  "  'Tis  Death  is  dead,  not  he."  Over  the 
door  of  Hans  Sachs's  dwelling  hangs  his  portrait,  with  the 
tiowing  white  beard  so  well  befitting  the  meister-3dnger  j 


A   WAX£.   FROM    HEIDELBERG   TO   NUREMBERG.  88 

And  il*  you  go  there  at  mid-day,  you  may  partake  of  a  dish 
of  bratiourst  which  would  have  furnished  Hans  with  inspi- 
ration for  at  least  six  odes.  In  the  court-yard  of  the  Castle 
there  is  a  mighty  linden-tree,  green  and  full  of  lusty  leaves, 
which  the  frost  seems  to  spare.  Seven  hundred  years  ago 
that  tree  was  planted  there  by  the  hand  of  the  Empress 
Kunigunde.  In  the  church  of  St.  Lorenz,  they  show  you 
the  renowned  pyx  by  Adam  Kraft  and  his  two  apprentices ; 
you  would  think  the  dust  of  their  chiselling  fresh  upon  it. 
Contemplate  its  glorious  workmanship ;  and  if  your  eyes 
do  not  fill  with  tears — spontaneous  tribute  to  that  Beauty 
'which  is  a  perpetual  joy,  and  of  pity  for  its  creator,  who 
perished  in  obscurity  and  want — ^its  stony  leaves  and  bios 
8oms  are  softer  than  your  nature. 

The  situation  of  the  city  is  peculiar,  and  in  the  highest 
degree  picturesque.  It  is  divided  by  the  river  Regnitz  into 
two  nearly  equal  parts,  called,  from  the  two  grand  churches 
they  contain,  the  Lorenz  side,  and  the  Sebald  side.  The 
river  washes  the  walls  of  the  houses,  and  is  spanned  by  a 
number  of  bridges,  one  of  which,  from  its  form,  is  named 
the  Rialto.  There  is  also  a  Bridge  of  Sighs,  leading  to  the 
prison.  A  number  of  mill-wheels  turn  in  the  stream, 
which  makes  its  entrance  into  and  exit  from  the  city 
through  arches  in  the  walls.  The  Sebald  side  ascends 
towards  the  north,  and  you  climb  steep  streets  lined  with 
the  houses  of  the  old  patricians,  to  the  Castle,  which  ia 
built  on  a  massive  sandstone  crag,  overhanging  the  city. 
The  battlements  command  wide  and  beautiful  views  on 
every  side.  On  the  morning  of  my  visit,  the  sky  was  cleai 
3aid  soft,  and  I   could  see  the  broad  meadows  stretching 


64  AT   HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

away  till  they  met  the  blue  Franoonian  mountains  in  the 
north-east.  Below  me  yawned  the  great  moat,  fifty  feet 
deep  and  one  hundred  feet  wide,  still  surrounding  the  city 
vv^alls.  From  the  opposite  battlement,  the  city  sloped  to 
he  river,  but  rose  again  from  the  other  side — a  mass  of 
luaint  notched  gables,  sharp  roofs,  broken  with  window 
of  every  fashion,  turrets  and  Gothic  pinnacles,  shooting  up 
BO  thickly  that  the  spires  of  St.  Sebald  and  St.  Lorenz 
seemed  but  older  plants  which  had  been  allowed  to  run  to 
seed.  They  blossomed  naturally  from  a  bed  of  such  archi- 
tecture. The  four  round  towers  of  Albert  Durer,  in  theii 
models  the  perfection  of  simple  strength,  mark  the  four 
points  of  the  compass.  Beyond  them,  and  over  the  wal) 
and  moat,  and  scattered  buildings  outside,  spreads  the 
fruitful  plain  of  Franconia. 

I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  in  detail  the  sights  of 
Nuremberg.  My  time  was  too  short  to  do  them  justice, 
yet  long  enough  to  receive  some  impressions  which  I  shall 
never  forget.  Of  course  I  visited  the  Rathhaus,  and  the 
Picture  Gallery,  where  I  was  most  struck  with  Albert 
Durer's  "  St.  Peter ; "  and  Rauch's  bronze  statue  of  Durei 
himself;  and  the  Beautiful  Fountain,  a  specimen  of  the 
purest  Gothic,  which  furnished  the  idea  for  Sir  Walter 
Scott's  Monument  in  Edinburgh;  and  the  Little  Goose- 
herd,  a  cunning  fountain,  representing  a  mannikin  with  two 
jeese  under  his  arm ;  and  the  Castle  Well,  cut  three  hun 
dred  feet  through  the  solid  rock ;  and  the  Gymnasium 
fo'mded  by  Melancthon,  with  many  other  noteworthy 
buildinsrs  and  monuments.  The  church-yard  of  St.  John, 
outside  of  the  city  walls,  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable 


A   WALK   FROM   HKIDKLBEBQ   TO    NUSKMBEBG.  88 

cemeteries  in  Europe.  The  graves  are  ranged  in  rows,  and 
each  is  covered  with  a  ponderous  slab  of  sandstone,  raised 
on  a  foundation,  and  regularly  numbered  from  1  to  about 
2,000.  They  nearly  all  date  beyond  the  last  century,  and 
some  are  so  old  as  to  have  lost  every  trace  of  their  original 
inscriptions.  The  moss  has  eaten  into  their  crevices,  the 
sharp  corners  are  rounded  and  broken,  and  they  lie  as 
shapeless  as  so  many  boulders  left  by  the  Deluge.  Among 
them  I  found  the  resting-place  of  Dttrer,  which  has  been 
carefully  restored ;  of  Hans  Sachs,  with  a  poor  specimen 
of  his  poetry  upon  it ;  of  Peter  Vischer,  whereon  a  crown 
of  oak-leaves,  cast  there  many  days  before,  was  rotting  in 
the  rain  ;  of  Veit  Stoss ;  and  lastly,  of  the  good  Willibald 
Pirkheimer,  ever  to  be  remembered  as  Dflrer's  friend.  A 
few  flowers  were  growing  rankly  about  the  comers  of  the 
stones,  but  so  desolated  and  ruined  is  the  aspect  of  the 
place,  that  even  without  the  prohibition  posted  up  at  the 
entrance  of  the  gate,  no  one  would  venture  to  pluck  them. 
The  last  visit  I  made  was  to  the  Church  of  St.  Lorenz — 
the  crown  of  all  that  Nuremberg  has  to  show.  It  is  one  of 
the  largest  Gothic  churches  in  Europe,  and  more  irapres- 
give  than  any  I  have  seen,  except  St.  Ouen  in  Rouen, 
and  the  unfinished  cathedral  of  Cologne.  The  nave  is  320 
feet  in  length  and  86  in  height,  and  finished  in  a  style  so  rich 
and  harmonious  as  to  produce  the  finest  possible  effect. 
Unlike  the  minsters  of  Uhn  and  Strasbourg,  whose  impos- 
ing exteriors  promise  too  much,  St.  Lorenz  stai-tles  you 
*rith  a  grandeur  you  had  not  anticipated,  and  you  measure 
with  breathless  delight  the  perfect  symmetry  of  the  co- 
lumns, the  single  arch  spanning  the  nave,  and  the  heautifu' 


80  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

intricacy  of  the  lacod  and  intertwuied  ribs  of  the  cbaDCtil 
roof.  You  follow  the  guide  from  pillar  to  pillar,  halting  to 
contemplate  the  works  of  Wolilgemuth,  of  Dflrer,  of 
Vischer,  Veit  Stoss,  and  the  other  cunning  artists  of  that 
day ;  but  wl  en  you  reach  the  pyx  (house  containing  th 
sacramental  vessels)  of  Adam  Kraft,  there  you  will  stop, 
md  thenceforth  the  church  will  contain  little  else  worth 
your  seeing. 

This  pyx  stands  beside  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  chancel, 
and  spires  upwards  Uke  a  fountain,  under  the  arch,  to  the 
height  of  more  than  sixty  feet.  It  is  of  pure  white  sand* 
stone,  and  of  the  most  rare  and  wonderful  workmanship. 
The  house  containing  the  vessels  is  imbedded  in  an  arbor 
of  vines,  forming  leafy  grottoes,  with  niches  in  which  stand 
statues  of  the  Apostles.  The  Gothic  pinnacles  which  shoot 
up  through  this  canopy  of  foliage  bud  into  leafy  ornaments 
at  their  tops,  and  bend  over  and  wave  downwards  like 
vines  swinging  in  the  air.  Upwards,  still  diminishing,  rises 
the  airy  tracery  of  the  spire,  with  spray-like  needles  leaping 
from  every  angle,  till  at  the  summit,  where  you  expect  the 
crowning  lightness  of  the  cross,  behold !  the  frail  stem  of 
stone  curves  like  a  flower-stalk,  and  hangs  in  the  air  a  last 
tendril  over  the  wondrous  arbor  out  of  which  it  grew. 
Grand  Adam  Kraft !  glorious  old  master !  God  grant  that 
this  beaut  iful  creation  sometimes  consoled  the  bitterness  of 
thy  destitute  and  neglected  old  age,  and  that  the  sacrar 
ment  of  that  Beauty,  of  which  this  was  but  a  faint  symbol, 
hallowed  thy  dying  hour ! 

Our  conductor  through  the  church  was  a  girl  of  fifteen, 
vrhose  flushed  cheek  and  frequent  cough  gave  a  painfuJ 


A    WALK   FROM   HEIDKUBJERG   TO   NUREMBKKO.  81 

effect  to  the  sad,  slow  monotone  of  her  voice,  while  telling 
us  of  Adam  Kraft,  as  we  stood  by  his  pyx :  how  he,  with 
his  apprentice  and  journeyman,  made  it  in  live  years,  and 
received  therefor  only  110  florins  (not  1300) ;  how  th 
people  had  no  faith  in  his  work,  but  believed  he  had  a 
secret  method  of  softening  the  stone  and  casting  it  inio 
moulds;  and  how  it  was  examined  from  top  to  bottom 
and  proved  to  be  really  chiselled.  She  pointed  to  the 
pedestal,  in  confirmation  of  the  story,  and  there,  sculp- 
tured with  their  own  hands,  the  figures  of  the  master 
and  his  two  associates,  kneeling,  upbore  the  weight  of  the 
structure.  A  quaint  fancy,  but  how  significant  I  Adam's 
eyes  are  closed,  as  if  with  the  exertion,  and  his  tace 
expresses  that  serene  patience  which  only  comes  from  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  Artist.  Here  the  apprentice  and  the 
journeyman,  who  wrought  with  an  equally  devoted  pur- 
pose, have  their  share  of  the  glory.  The  master  of  that 
day  was  too  pure  and  single-minded  in  his  devotion  to 
Art,  not  to  be  just.  There  was  then  no  monopoly  of  Fame 
in  a  great  name.  What  would  Kraft  and  Dflrer  have 
thought  of  the  romances  of  Dimias  and  the  battle-pieces 
ofVemet? 


IX. 

PANORAMA  OP  THE  UPPER  DANUBE. 

[OCTDBEB,   1861.] 


Whilb  plodding  along  the  highway  from  Vienna  to  Lins, 
in  the  summer  of  1845,  I  frequently  saw  the  Danube 
gleaming  to  the  northward  in  the  lap  of  its  magnificent 
valley.  I  crossed  it  afterwards  at  Ulm,  where  it  comes 
fresh  from  its  fountains,  and  parted  from  it  with  my  love 
for  its  name  and  associations  strengthened  by  the  slight 
acquaintance.  But  within  the  last  five  days  I  have  sailed 
four  himdred  miles  on  its  breast,  and  felt  its  might  and 
majesty  as  never  before.  It  has  completely  displaced  the 
Rhine,  which  I  had  held  to  be  without  peer  among  Euro 
pean  rivers;  and  as  this  preference  is  contrary  to  the 
general  opinion  (probably  because  one  person  visits  the 
Danube  where  ten  visit  the  Rhine),  a  rapid  sketch  of  the 
scenery  from  Donauworth  to  Vienna  may  help  to  justify  it 


PANOBAMA    OF   THE   UPPKB  DANUBK.  89 

The  Danube  is  a  lordly  river.  It  does  not  drip  from  the 
edges  of  the  glaciers  like  the  Rhine,  the  Rhone,  and  the 
Po,  but  gushes  at  once  to  life,  a  lusty  stream,  in  the  garden 
of  a  Prince.  Nor  does  the  flood,  in  its  waxing  course, 
lolly  the  nobility  of  its  birth.  One  race  and  one  language 
lone  cannot  measure  its  extent,  but  from  its  cradle  in  the 
Black  Forest  till  it  mingles  with  the  Euxine,  it  draws  its 
waters  from  Suabia  and  Bavaria  and  Franconia ;  from  the 
meadows  of  the  Engaddin,  in  the  Upper  Alps ;  from  the 
hills  of  Bohemia ;  from  Tyrol  and  lUyria ;  from  Hungary 
and  Servia ;  and  fr^m  the  lands  of  the  Turk  and  the  Wal- 
lachian.  Its  youth  is  crystal-clear,  rapid,  and  bears  the 
aroma  of  the  Northern  fir ;  its  old  age  stagnates  in  the 
lazy  languor  of  the  Orient.  It  is  like  one  of  those  Vikings 
of  the  eighth  century,  who  went  with  the  frost  and  fire  of 
Iceland  to  wallow  in  the  luxury  of  the  Byzantine  Court. 
It  hears  the  hynms  of  Luther  sung  in  the  places  where 
Luther  dwelt,  and  it  hears  the  muezzin  call  from  his  mina- 
ret the  name  of  Mohammed. 

But  its  historical  interest ! — What  grander  associations 
than  AttUa  and  his  Huns,  or  the  Dacians  before  them! 
And  is  not  Belgrave's  stirring  name,  and  John  Sobieski's 
victory  before  the  walls  of  Vienna,  something  to  remember  ? 
Cceur  de  Lion's  prison  looked  on  the  river ;  and  its  waves 
are  still  lighted  with  the  splendor  of  the  Niebelungen  Lay. 
What  has  the  Rhine  to  surpass  these?  It  has  much,  to  be 
§ure :  a  tower  on  every  headland,  and  a  legend  to  every 
tower.  It  sinsrs  a  lesjend  throus-hout  the  lensi-h  of  it? 
Highlands — a  poweiful  melody,  like  that  of  the  Lorely. 
out   no   grander   strain.     The   Rhino  is  legendary ;    thf 


90  AT   HOMK  AND   ABBOAD. 

Danabe  is  epio.  Its  associations  have  a  broad  and  majes* 
tic  character;  they  are  connected  with  historical  move- 
ments more  vast,  and  lead  us  back  to  more  remote  ana 
obscure  periods.  The  stream  itself,  as  it  flows  with  a 
lull  current,  now  losing  its  way  on  interminable  plains,  now 
ptunging  into  mountain  defiles,  where  there  seems  no  hope 
ot*  outlet,  has  something  vague  and  undefinable  in  its  expres- 
sdon.  The  ruins  which  crown  its  banks  are  grim  and 
silent;  they  have  lost  their  histories,  or  refuse  to  give 
them  up.  The  wild  woods  of  the  Middle  Ages  still  keep 
possession  of  valleys  that  come  down  from  the  mysterious 
Bohmer-Wald,  and  as  you  look  up  their  silent  depths,  home 
of  the  stag  and  wild  boar,  you  think  of  the  wehr-wolves 
with  a  slight  shiver  in  your  blood. 

But  I  am  giving  you  the  effect  of  the  Danube,  before  I 
have  shown  you  its  landscapes.  Take,  with  me,  an  affection- 
ate leave  of  Nuremberg.  It  rains  dismally,  and  the  high 
and  barren  watershed  of  Middle  Europe^  over  which  the 
Railroad  passes,  is  fast  becoming  a  quagmiie.  The  plains 
are  drowned  with  six  months  of  incessant  moisture,  and  the 
low  hills  of  ragged  fir-trees  seem  slowly  sinking  into  them. 
We  pass  numerous  dull  villages  and  two  or  three  tolerable 
towns,  and  after  more  than  fifty  miles  of  such  travel,  strike 
an  affluent  of  the  Danube,  and  descend  with  it  through  the 
hills  to  Donauworth.  This  town  is  of  no  note,  except  as 
being  the  head  of  navigation  on  the  river.  We  did  not 
even  enter  it,  but  took  lodgings  in  "The  Crab,"  which 
stands  by  the  water-side,  and  which  gave  us,  without 
lifting  our  heads  from  the  pillows,  a  night-A'iew  of  the  plain 
towards  Ulm,  and  the  swollen  flood  flashing  in  fitful  gfleamii 


PANOBAMA  OP  THB  UPPEE   DAVITBB.  91 

of  moonlight.    In  the  morning  we  took  the  steamer  fot 

Regensburg 

The  arrowy  river  swung  our  bow  around  with  its  course, 
and  carried  us  rapidly  onwards,  through  vast,  marshy  flats, 
thickly  set  with  willows,  where,  at  times,  we  were  in  as 
complete  a  solitude  as  the  untenanted  banks  of  our  West- 
ern rivers  exhibit.  The  current  is  exceedingly  tortuous, 
and  we  frequently  faced  all  points  of  the  compass,  in  going 
a  single  league.  On  the  northern  side,  a  chain  of  rolling 
hills,  the  first  terraces  of  the  central  table-land,  sometiniep 
approach  the  river,  but  do  not  add  to  the  amenity  of  its 
landscapes.  They  are  covered  with  a  scattering  growth  of 
beech  and  oak,  cleared  away  in  places  for  grain,  or  planted 
with  lean-looking  vineyards;  still,  there  is  something  fine 
and  bold  in  their  outlines,  especially  when,  on  turning  a 
corner,  we  see  the  next  headland  before  us,  stretching  far 
into  the  blue  distance.  On  our  right  appears  the  Donau- 
moos,  a  morass  which  fills  all  our  southern  horizon.  It  is 
drained  by  132  canals,  but  the  river  is  now  so  high  that  the 
current  in  these  sluices  flows  backwards  and  fills  them. 

We  pass  Ingolstadt,  a  town  surrounded  by  a  massive 
wall,  a  deep  moat,  and  outworks  of  most  ponderous  charac- 
ter— all  as  new  and  shining  as  the  helmets  of  the  Bavarian 
soldiers  on  guard.  Why  this  fortification  is  wanted  now, 
and  why  it  should  be  built  in  the  centre  of  a  plain,  where  it 
commands  nothing  and  protects  nothing,  is  about  as  clear 
to  me  as  to  the  aforesaid  soldiers.  But  before  I  have  fairlr 
settled  the  question,  we  are  among  the  mountains  again. 
Here  they  are,  steep  and  abrupt ;  woods  of  autumnal  brown 
and  purple,  relieved  by  the  dark-green  of  the  fir,  wave  from 


fl2  Al    HOMfe     AND     ABROAD. 

their  precipices  of  white  limestone  rock,  and  soften  their 
outlines  against  the  clear  sky.  A  large  white  Benedictine 
cloister,  under  the  shadow  of  the  cliflFs,  now  comes  into 
view:  but  what  is  this  ?  The  Danube  is  at  an  end,  and  we 
are  drifting  with  the  furious  flood  full  against  a  crag  two 
hundred  feet  in  height.  A  rough  image  of  the  Madonna 
looks  out  from  a  niche  scooped  in  the  rock,  and  the  crew 
take  off  their  hats  as  we  shoot  past.  Lo  !  a  miracle  has 
been  wrought;  the  terrible  wall  has  been  cleft  at  right 
angles,  and  our  boat  turns  so  sharply  into  the  narrow  strait, 
that  the  giddy  summit  overhangs  our  deck. 

Crash !  goes  a  report  like  the  peal  of  a  thousand  cannons, 
but  it  is  only  one,  which  the  captain  has  ordered  to  bo  fired 
for  our  astonishment.  The  sound  rolls  down  the  chasm, 
striking  heavily  on  the  perpendicular  walls,  as  if  the  Indian's 
Bird  of  Thunder  were  caught  here,  and  flapping  his  wings 
in  a  vain  effort  to  escape.  He  reaches  the  top  at  last,  and 
sullenly  soars  off  into  silence.  Still  downwards  we  speed 
with  the  foaming  river,  almost  grazing  the  sides  of  our 
passage-way  as  we  clear  its  sudden  windings,  till  at  length 
a  wider  reach  in  the  mountains  opens  before  us,  and  we  take 
a  long  breath  of  relief  All  through  the  canons  of  the 
Danube,  the  rocks  are  pierced  with  bolts  near  the  water, 
from  which  hang  iron  rings,  used  by  the  boatmen  in  their 
slow  and  difficult  ascent. 

The  great  plain  of  Bavaria,  extending  beyond  Munich  to 
the  Alps,  was  evidently  at  one  time  the  bed  of  an  inland 
sea,  whose  waters  at  last  tore  this  passage  through  the 
mountains.  The  rocks  exhibit  the  same  appearances  as 
those  of  the  Rhine  at  Bingen,  and  the  Potomac  at  Harper's 


PANOBAMA   OP  XHB  UPPBB  DAXX7BB.  08 

Ferry,  but  the  pass  is  much  more  narrow,  rugged,  and  pecu- 
liar than  either.  Beyond  it,  the  mountains  give  the  Danube 
room,  and  his  vexed  current  takes  a  broader  sweep,  and 
rolls  with  a  more  majestic  motion.  As  we  approach  Ratis- 
bon  (Regensburg)  they  disappear  from  the  southern  banki 
and  leave  the  city  seated  on  the  plain. 

At  Ratisbon,  which  we  reached  at  four  o'clock  in  the  af 
temoon,  we  remained  the  following  day,  in  order  to  visit  the 
Walhalla.  This  celebrated  edifice,  built  by  the  Ex-King 
Louis  of  Bavaria,  stands  on  the  summit  of  a  hill  overlooking 
the  river,  about  six  miles  to  the  eastward  of  the  city.  The 
morning  brought  with  it  a  dense  fog,  through  which  we 
felt  our  way  to  the  village  of  Donaustauf.  The  Walhalla 
was  not  visible,  but  some  peasant  women  showed  us  a  foot- 
path leading  up  to  a  church  on  the  hill.  There  Were 
shrines  on  the  way,  and  we  were  obliged  to  step  carefully 
past  several  persons  who  were  ascending  on  their  knees. 
Behind  the  church,  the  path  plunged  into  a  wood  of  young 
oaks,  redolent  of  moist  autumnal  fragrance.  After  half  a 
mile  of  gradual  ascent,  we  issued  from  the  trees  upon  a 
space  of  level  ground,  on  which  stood  the  Walhalla,  loom- 
ing grandly  through  the  up-rolling  mists.  I  deem  it  fortu- 
nate that  my  first  view  was  from  the  summit  of  the  hill,  on 
a  level  with  the  base  of  the  building.  Seen  thus,  it  will  be 
accepted,  ^vithout  hesitation,  as  among  the  most  admirable 
architectural  works  of  modern  times.  It  is  closely  modelled 
afrer  the  Parthenon,  and  therefore  has  not  the  merit  of 
originality — at  least,  externally.  Its  material  is  white  Al» 
pine  marble,  brought  from  the  Untersberg,  where,  according 
to  the  old  legend,  Charlemagne  sits  with  his  Paladins  awail» 


f4  AT   UOME  JlKD  ABBOAD. 

ing  the  deliverance  of  Germany.  Schwanthaler's  colossal 
group  of  the  victory  of  Herman  over  the  Romans,  fills  the 
pediment  of  the  northern  front,  which  overlooks  a  lovely 
green  valley.  An  allegorical  group  by  the  same  artist,  from 
designs  by  Ranch,  occupies  the  southern  front,  which  is  raised 
on  vast  foundation  terraces  of  masonry,  120  feet  in  height. 
The  Walhalla  stands  in  the  centre  of  an  arc  of  hills 
washed  by  the  Danube,  and  looks  beyond  his  waters  and 
OA'er  the  plains  of  Bavaria,  to  the  snowy  Unes  of  the  Noric 
Alps.  Its  position  is  finely  chosen,  but  the  effect  of  the 
superb  building  is  painfully  marred  by  the  clumsy  mass  of 
foundation  work  on  which  it  stands.  The  introduction  of 
oblique  lines  of  stairway,  which  as  you  descend  rise  beyond 
the  terraces  against  which  they  are  built,  disturbs  the  im- 
posing contrast  of  the  simple  uprights  and  horizontals. 
The  temple  itself  is  dwarfed,  and  the  eye  is  drawn  away 
from  its  aiiy  grace  and  symmetry  to  rest  on  the  blank,  glar- 
ing, dead-walls  which  uphold  it.  The  interior  is  finished  in 
the  chromatic  style  so  lavishly  employed  by  the  ancient 
Greeks,  and  dazzles  one  with  its  gilded  roof,  its  mosaic  floor, 
and  its  walls  of  precious  marbles.  It  forms  a  single  hall, 
between  two  and  three  hundred  feet  in  length  and  nearly 
sixty  in  height.  The  walls  are  broken  by  two  heavy  pilaster- 
like projections,  on  each  side,  upon  which  stand  statues  of 
the  Northern  ValkjTie  or  Fates,  holding  on  their  heads  the 
bases  of  the  arches  supporting  the  iron  roof.  The  general 
im])ression  produced  is  one  of  great  richness  and  splendor, 
with  a  dash  of  barbaric  extravagance.  The  fouiteen  statuei 
of  the  Fates,  upholding  the  roof,  are  painted  and  gilded 
and  remind  one  rather  too  strongly  of  Dresden  china 


PANORAMA  OF  THE  UPPKa  DANUBE.  95 

ground  the  sides  of  the  hall  the  busts  of  ninety-eight  distin- 
guished Germans,  executed  in  Carrara  marble,  are  placed 
on  separate  brackets,  while  a  frieze  of  the  same  material 
above  them,  typifies  the  history  of  German  civilization. 

The  fine  harmony  of  the  coloring,  the  soft  gleam  of  the 
polished  marbles,  and  the  imposing  dimensions  of  the  hall, 
give  it  an  eflfect  which  at  first  bewilders  the  judgment,  but 
cannot  keep  it  captive.  The  Parthenon  is  not  adapted  to  a 
German  Walhalla.  The  pure  and  perfect  simplicity  of  Gre- 
cian Art  does  not  represent  the  exuberant  German  mind,  so 
rich  in  its  fancy,  so  subtle  in  its  imagination,  so  profound 
and  far-tho lighted,  yet  always  serious  in  its  expression, 
always  removed  from  the  grace,  the  poise,  the  wondrous 
balance  and  symmetry  of  the  Greek  Apollo.  Nor  are  *;he 
natural  adjuncts  of  the  temple  more  fitting.  The  sombre 
fir,  or  even  the  oak,  is  too  stem  to  grow  in  its  shadow ;  the 
clouds  and  storms,  the  pale  sky  of  the  North,  are  too  cold 
to  be  its  background.  It  should  stand  high  on  a  headland, 
above  a  sparkling  sea,  \\ath  the  blue  of  a  summer  noon 
behind  it ;  where  the  spiry  cypress  might  mock  its  shafts, 
and  the  palm  lift  beside  them  a  more  graceful  capital. 

As  a  great  work,  the  Walhalla  is  a  failure  ;  as  a  great 
copy,  we  shall  accept  it,  and  accord  all  honor  to  the  patri- 
otic spirit  which  consecrates  it.  The  busts  are  generally 
well  executed,  but  the  six  statues  of  Ranch — difierent  enibo- 
liments  of  Victory,  or  Tiiumph — belong  to  the  finest  speci- 
mens of  modern  art.  Half  the  busts  are  those  of  Dukes 
or  Electors,  whose  names  are  not  familiarly  known  outside 
of  Germany ;  poets,  artists,  scholars,  and  composers  make 
Of  the  other  half.     Schiller  is  there  ( and  his  head  would 


96  AT   UOALB   AND   ABBOAO. 

Got  be  out  of  place  in  the  true  Parthenon)  between  Haydn 
and  the  dry,  contracted,  ahnost  idiotic  little  head  of  Eant. 
Goethe,  Herder,  Lessing,  and  even  Btlrger,  have  a  place. 
But  I  looked  with  the  most  Uvely  satisfaction  at  the  head 
of  liUther,  which  was  at  first  omitted  (Bavaria  beiug 
Catholic),  but  which  the  univei'sal  outcry  of  all  Germany 
forced  the  King  to  restore.  And  not  only  Luther,  but 
that  fiery  reformer,  Ulrich  von  Hutten,  whose  motto,  '•^Ich 
halt's  gevoagV  (I  have  dared  it),  accompanies  his  bust. 
Melancthon  is  still  wanting,  though  Erasmus  finds  a  place. 

Ratisbon  is  a  quiet  city,  with  a  beautiful  old  Cathedral 
and  pleasant  promenades.  I  had  no  curiosity  to  see  the 
Chamber  of  Torture  under  the  Rathhaus,  in  spite  of  the 
solicitations  of  four  valets-de-place,  who  wished  to  earn  a 
fee  by  accompanying  me.  With  German  caution  the  porter 
roused  us  at  four  o'clock  in  order  that  we  might  leave  by 
half-past  five.  We  wandered  to  the  boat  shivering  in  the 
mist,  and  sat  there  four  mortal  hours  before  the  Captain 
ventured  to  start.  The  hills  were  shrouded,  and  the  Walhalla 
was  invisible  as  we  passed,  but  soon  the  Danube  wandered 
out  upon  a  plain,  which  his  current,  brimmed  to  the  top  of 
the  banks,  threatened  to  ovei-flow.  Towards  noon  the  spires 
of  Straubing  were  close  at  hand,  but  so  remarkably  crooked 
is  the  river,  that  we  chasseed  backwards  and  forwards  be- 
fore the  iown  for  neai'ly  an  hour,  before  dancing  up  to  it 
As  we  passed  under  the  bridge  I  thought  of  the  beautifu 
Agnes  Bernauer,  the  wife  of  Duke  Albert  of  Bavaria,  who 
was  thrown  from  it  into  the  Danube  during  her  husband's 
absence,  by  his  savage  fathei''s  order. 

Now  the  blue  mountains  of  the  BQhraer-  Wold  or  Bobo^ 


t>ANORAiIA     OF    THE    TTtPfiR    DANUBfi.  9*1 

mian  Forest;  rose  on  our  left,  but  the  high,  wooded  summits 
leaned  to  each  other  and  shut  us  out  from  a  look  into  their 
wild  recesses.  In  one  place  only  they  touched  the  river. 
Elsewhere  a  chain  of  lower  but  not  less  picturesque  hills 
kept  them  in  the  rear.  Soon  after  leaving  the  plain  we 
reach  Passau,  the  last  Bavarian  town,  built  on  a  bold  height 
at  the  junction  of  the  Danube  and  the  Inn.  Here  we  touch 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  start  for  Linz,  as  the  passengers 
suppose,  although  it  is  late  in  the  afternoon.  The  scenery 
is  strikingly  bold  and  beautiful.  The  only  dwellings  we  see 
are  the  wooden  cottages  of  the  woodmen  and  the  herdsmen : 
here  and  there  a  slope  of  pasture-ground  breaks  the  mono- 
tony of  the  unpruned  forests,  A  rosy  sunset  colors  the  dis- 
tant peaks  of  the  Bohmer-Wald,  and  the  gorges  through 
which  we  pass  are  gi'owing  dark  with  twilight.  A  rude  vil- 
lage appears,  in  a  nook  of  the  mountains  ;  the  steamer's 
gun  is  fired,  and  we  swing  around  to  the  bank  and  make  fast, 
for  the  Captain  is  afraid  of  whirlpools  and  other  terrors. 

As  we  step  ashore  we  are  met  by  beggars  and  Austrian 
Custom-House  officers.  While  the  latter  are  politely  ex- 
plaining to  us  that  we  must  leave  all  our  baggage  on  board, 
the  church-bell  chimes  vespers.  Officers  and  beggars  take 
off  their  hats  and  stand  silent,  repeating  their  prayers. 
There  is  a  wirthshaus  on  the  bank  with  a  landlady  as  thick 
as  a  barrel,  who  gives  us  each  a  double  bed  (the  upper  bed 
nuoh  larger  than  the  under)  and  half  a  pint  of  water,  to 
wash  our  faces  in  the  morning.  Our  room  secured,  we  go 
down  to  the  guests'  room  and  order  supper.  The  village 
magistrate  and  two  priests  and  a  number  of  Austrian  sol- 
diers, take  their  places  at  our  table,  and  drink  large  draughts 


98  AT     HOME     AXn     ABROAD. 

of  "  nasty  porter,"  as  I  heard  it  called  by  a  cockney  in  Nu- 
remberg. The  smoke  soon  becomes  so  thick,  and  the  to- 
bacco is  of  such  rank  Austrian  growth,  that  we  retire  to  our 
smothering  beds.  The  steamer's  cannon  rouses  us  at  four 
o'clock;  we  are  otf  at  daylight,  sweeping  down  between 
the  cold,  dark  mountains,  and  in  spite  of  two  hours'  delay, 
on  account  of  fogs,  succeed  in  reaching  Linz  by  ten 
o'clock. 

Nothing  could  be  more  gentle  and  agreeable  than  the  Cas- 
tora-House  and  passport  examination,  soothed  as  it  was  by 
the  extreme  politeness  of  the  oflScials.  Austria  received  us 
as  tenderly  as  a  mother  would  receive  her  returning  children ; 
and  so  far  as  concerns  her  people,  we  profited  by  the  change. 
The  Southern  warmth,  the  grace  and  suavity  of  the  Aus- 
trian character,  impress  one  very  pleasantly  after  leaving  the 
muddy-headed  Bavarians.  We  were  obliged  to  remain  till 
next  morning  in  Linz ;  but  the  soft,  warm  air,  the  gay  Ita- 
lian aspect  of  the  streets,  and  the  beauty  of  the  surrounding 
scenery  reconciled  us  to  the  delay.  Besides,  from  the 
parapet  of  the  Schlossberg,  did  we  not  haU  the  airy 
ranges  of  the  Noric  and  Styrian  Alps  ? 

At  last,  however,  after  losing  three  hours  in  waiting  for 
the  fog  to  disperse,  we  are  oflffor  Vienna.  The  sun  comes 
out  bright  and  warm  over  the  thousand  islands  in  the  channel 
of  the  Danube.  We  are  a  motley  crew :  tljree  Russians ;  an 
American,  fresh  from  Moscow,  and  on  his  way  to  Poland ;  a 
S<;otch  physician  ;  an  Austrian,  whom  I  take  to  be  a  secret 
spy,  because  he  has  a  sneaking  face,  and  talks  in  whispers 
about  Ilniiixary ;  and  a  Carmelite  monk,  who  is  the  very 
picture  of  jolly  humor  and  good  living.     The  brisk  air  and 


AJ70&AMA  OF  TH£   UFPUB  DAmTEB.  99 

rapid  motion  give  us  an  appetite,  and  we  are  not  sorry  that 
dinner  is  ready  at  twelve  o'clock.  Before  we  have  finished 
three  of  the  ten  courses,  we  notice  through  the  cabin  win- 
dows that  we  have  passed  the  rich  meadow-lands  and 
ure  among  the  forests  and  hills.  The  monk,  whose  capaciou 
girdle  is  getting  tight,  is  anxious  we  should  not  lose  th 
best  points  of  the  scenery ;  and,  as  we  shoot  under  the  Cas- 
tle of  Grein,  says  hastily :  "  I  think  the  gentlemen  ought  now 
to  go  on  deck.''  XVe  rush  up  stairs  bareheaded,  the  monk 
rolls  after  us,  and  the  rest  of  the  company  follow.  The  Da- 
nube is  shut  in  among  the  hills ;  a  precipitous  crag,  crowned 
with  a  ruin,  rises  in  front,  and  the  monk  says  we  shall  pass 
behind  it,  but  we  do  not  believe  him.  Nevertheless,  the 
current  carries  us  onward  like  the  wind  and  we  shoot  into  a 
gateway  scarcely  wider  than  our  boat,  down  a  roaring  rapid. 
The  crag  and  the  ruin  are  now  behind  us,  but  there  are  two 
others  in  front.  Between  them  the  river  turns  sharply  round 
a  ledge  of  rocks,  and  boils  in  a  foaming  whirlpool.  This  is 
the  celebrated  Wirbel,  the  Charybdis  of  the  Upper  Danube. 
Our  strong  steamer  walks  straight  through  its  ceutre,  but 
slightly  shaken  by  the  agitated  waters,  and,  satisfied  that 
we  have  done  justice  to  the  exciting  passage,  we  go  below 
to  finish  our  dinner. 

For  nearly  fifty  miles  further,  our  course  lies  among  the 
mountains.  From  the  summit  to  the  water's  edge  they  are 
mantled  with  forests,  broken  here  and  there  by  cliflTs  and 
jagged  walls  of  granite.  Somtimes  a  little  village  finds  place 
at  the  entrance  of  a  side-valley,  or  a  grim  ruin  is  held  against 
the  sky  by  a  peak  which  challenges  access,  but  the  general 
aspect  is  wild,  sublime,  and  lonely.     Here,  again,  I  fomid  th* 


100  AX  HOMB  AND  ABBOAB. 

Danube  grander  than  the  Rhine.  Tiie  mountains  are  infi 
nitely  finer  in  their  native  clothing  cf  forests,  rough  though 
it  be,  than  in  their  Rhenish  veneering  of  vine-terraces, 
through  which  their  crags  of  sterile  rock  show  with  the 
effect  of  a  garment  out  at  the  knees  and  elbows.  The  hill 
)f  the  Danube  wear  their  forests  of  pine  and  larch  and  oak 
as  Attila  might  have  worn  his  lion's  hide. 

As  we  pass  the  magnificent  monastery  of  Molk,  our  Car- 
melite talks  juicily  of  the  glorious  wines  in  the  cellar,  and 
the  good  dinners  which  the  Benedictines  enjoy  within  iw 
walls.  He  tells  of  the  hills  in  Hungary  and  Moravia  where 
the  best  wines  grow,  and  his  eyes  are  still  sparkling  with 
the  remembrance  of  them  as  we  reach  the  shattered  crags 
of  Dtlrrenstein.  We  look  up  at  the  crumbling  tower  in 
which  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart  was  imprisoned,  and  won- 
der on  which  side  of  it  stood  Blondel,  when  he  sang  the 
lay  which  discovered  the  royal  captive.  We  feel  our  blood 
grow  warm  and  our  hearts  beat  faster;  as  we  think  of  thai 
story  of  fiuthful  love.  But  the  boat  speeds  on  and  brings 
us  to  Stein,  where  we  leave  the  mountains,  and  leave,  alas  ! 
our  ruddy  Carmelite.  Tlie  best  of  wuies  be  poured  out  to 
him,  wherever  he  goes  ! 

The  sun  is  just  sinking  into  a  bed  of  molten  crimson  and 
yellow  and  amber-green,  as  we  reach  Tuln.  Vienna  is  bu* 
an  hour  distant,  and  the  twilight  is  long  and  clear,  but  th« 
taptain  says  stop,  and  we  stop,  heartily  wishing  ourselvei 
ai  an  American  boat,  with  an  American  captain,  "  bound 
to  put  her  through  by  daylight."  We  are  indebted  to  the 
influence  of  a  young  oflieer,  in  getting  n  '>ad  supper  from 
an  uncivil  landlady  on  shore,  and  go  back  to  the  boat,  wher« 


pANOfiAMA   OF  THB   UPPEK   DANUBE.  101 

we  lie  all  night  in  the  cabin  with  aching  bones,  and  a  child's 
wooden  stool  for  a  pillow. 

In  the  morning  an  hour's  steaming  brought  us  to  Nusft 
dorf,  a  village  a;bout  three  miles  from  the  city,  where  we 
were  landed  and  left  to  shift  for  ourselves.  Four  ot  us 
hired  a  fiacre  and  started  with  our  baggage.  A  certificate 
given  us  at  Linz  saved  us  the  trouble  of  examination,  and 
we  were  not  asked  for  our  passports. 


X. 

THE  ROAD   FROM   VIENNA   TO   TRIESTE. 

[1851    AND   1867.] 


Staeting  from  Vienna  alone,  on  my  way  to  the  Orient,  1 
took  my  place  in  the  afternoon  train  for  Gloggnitz,  at  the 
foot  of  the  Semmeiing  Alp.  The  level  basin  of  the  Danube, 
at  first  barren,  but  afterwards  covered  with  vineyards  and 
maize-fields,  extended  wide  on  the  left;  on  the  right, 
veDed  in  clouds,  ran  the  ranges  of  the  Styrian  Alps.  After 
passing  Neustadt,  forty  miles  from  Vienna,  one  of  my 
neighbors  dii-ected  my  attention  to  a  spire  which  marked 
the  position  of  a  village  about  two  miles  to  the  eastward 
That  village,  he  said,  was  in  Hungary,  and  so  also  was  a 
bold  wooded  ridge — one  of  the  last  spurs  of  the  great  Alpine 
chain — which  rose  behind  it.  This  ridge  gradually  ap- 
proached us  on  the  left,  and  the  plain  by  degrees  narrowed 
\nto  a  valley.    The  beautiful  vineyards  which  covered  th« 


THE    ROAD    FROM   VIENNA    TO   TRIESTE.  lOS 

slopes  of  the  mountains  now  gave  place  to  woods  of  fir  and 
cliflfs  of  naked  rock,  and  finally,  as  twilight  came  on  to 
deepen  their  sombre  hue,  we  reached  Gloggnitz,  at  that 
time  the  terminus  of  the  railroad. 

[The  road  was  completed  throughout  from  Vienna  to 
Trieste  in  1857,  and  the  transit  from  the  Danube  to  the 
Adriatic,  a  distance  of  about  350  miles,  is  now  made  by 
the  express  trains  in  sixteen  hours  and  a  half.  Many  years 
have  been  employed  in  surmounting  the  two  chief  diflSculties 
on  this  route — ^the  passage  of  the  Semmering  Alp  and  of 
the  high  Carinthian  table-land,  both  of  which  are  great 
triumphs  of  engineering.  The  first  is  a  bold  spur  of  the 
Styrian  Alps,  dividing  the  waters  of  the  Danube  from 
those  of  the  Drave.  After  ascending  a  long,  sloping  val- 
ley, the  road  boldly  takes  the  mountain  side,  which  it 
climbs  by  a  series  of  zigzag  grades,  the  heaviest  of  which 
are  upwards  of  140  feet  to  the  mile.  Near  the  summit, 
3,000  feet  above  the  sea,  the  road  skirts  a  terrific  gorge, 
through  galleries  hewn  in  the  solid  rock,  and  by  bridges 
thrown  across  the  lateral  ravines.  The  descent  on  the 
southern  side  into  the  valley  of  the  Mur,  a  tributary  of 
the  Drave,  is  much  more  gradual.  The  distance  from 
Gloggnitz  to  Murzzuschlag,  by  the  road,  is  thirty  miles, 
but  less  than  fifteen  in  a  straight  line.  The  cost  of  the 
work  is  said  to  have  been  upwards  of  $10,000,000,  The 
passage  of  the  Semmering,  however,  is  not  9,  more  remark- 
able undertaking  than  that  of  the  Alleghanies,  on  the 
Baltimore  and  Ohio  Road,  or  some  of  the  sections  on  the 
Pennsylvania  Central,  and  New  York  and  Erie  lines.  The 
heaviest  grades  on  these  roads  are,  I  believe,  respectivelj 


104  AT   HOME    AND   ABBOAD. 

120, 103,  and  98  feet  to  the  mile,  though  there  are  a  fe\« 
rods  on  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  which  reach  140  feet. 
The  engineers  who  built  the  track  over  the  Semmering 
first  visited  the  latter  road,  to  which  belongs  the  credit 
of  inaugurating  mountain  grades.] 

At  Gloggnitz  I  was  obliged  to  wait  until  midniglit  for  the 
stage  over  the  mountains  to  Mtlrzzuschlag.  A  handsome 
Slave,  whose  acquaintance  I  had  made  in  the  car,  accompa- 
nied me  to  a  cafe,  where  he  took  supper  with  me,  before 
going  to  his  home,  a  few  miles  further.  In  the  warmth  of 
his  heart,  he  wanted  me  to  go  with  him,  and  spend  the 
night  under  his  roof.  He  had  the  most  amiable  wife  in  the 
world,  and  a  darling  little  boy,  the  very  pearl  of  all  infants, 
only  four  months  old.  Before  he  was  married,  he  was  very 
fond  of  dogs,  but  now  they  disgusted  him  :  one  child  was 
worth  a  million  dogs.  And  then  followed  the  whole  his- 
tory of  his  love  and  courtship,  so  naive,  so  simple,  and 
told  with  such  delightful  frankness,  that  my  heart  over- 
flowed towards  the  good  Slave.  At  parting,  I  gave  him  my 
hand  and  a  silent  blessing  on  his  honest  and  confiding 
nature. 

When  one  is  obliged  to  wait  at  night  in  the  barren  room 
of  an  inn,  the  hours  are  dreary  enough.  They  had  an  end, 
however,  and  I  crept  into  a  small  stage,  with  three  Ger- 
mans, who  instantly  insisted  on  closing  all  the  window* 
and  lighting  their  pipes.  I  like  the  Germans  most  heartily 
in  many  respects,  and  I  love  their  land  next  to  my  own.  1 
can  sleep  under  their  big  feather-beds,  and  eat  their  hetero- 
geneous dinners,  and  bear  with  patience  their  everlasting 
delays:   but  I  cannot  tolerate  their  inveterate  dread  of 


THE  BOAB  PEOM  VIENNA  TO  TRIESTE.  106 

&esh  water  and  fresh  air.  Except  Vienna,  the  German 
jities  are  shockingly  deficient  in  baths,  and  even  in  the 
best  hotels,  a  small  decanter  of  water  is  thought  to  be 
amply  sufficient  for  one's  ablutions.  My  companions  ic 
the  stage  had  each  an  overcoat  and  cloak,  and  yet  they 
)er8isted  in  keeping  the  windows  &st  during  four  sufibcat- 
mg  hours.  Of  the  Pass  of  the  Semmering  I  can  only  say 
that  we  went  very  slowly  up-hill  one-half  of  the  way,  and 
very  fast  down-hill  the  other  half.  I  rubbed  off  the  moist 
coating  of  the  panes,  and  looked  out  occasionally.  The 
moon  gave  a  straggling  light,  and  I  saw  some  black,  ghostly 
mountains  near  at  hand,  but  not  with  sufficient  distinctness 
to  separate  their  forms. 

We  left  Murzzuschlag  at  dawn,  and  sped  down  the  valley 
of  the  Mur,  the  right  arm  of  the  Drave.  We  were  now 
deep  in  the  rough,  picturesque  old  province  of  Steyermark. 
In  the  early  dusk  the  blue  and  red  flames  flickered  from 
the  chimneys  of  furnaces  in  the  valleys,  but  as  it  grew 
light,  quaint  cottages  of  home-like  aspect  appeared  on  the 
slopes,  and  the  black  woods  of  fir  higher  up  were  broken 
with  brilliant  patches  of  pasture-ground.  Following  the 
windings  of  the  river,  we  enjoyed  a  rapid  diorama  of 
very  rugged  mountain  scenei^,  which  was  only  dark  and 
melancholy  because  the  clouds  lowered  heavily  upon  it. 
The  mountains  on  either  hand  were  from  three  to  five 
housand  feet  in  height,  and  so  sterile  and  abrupt  as  to 
defy  all  attempt  at  cultivation.  In  some  places  they  ter 
minated  in  sheer  walls  of  rock,  dropping  almost  from  the 
3ummit  to  the  base.  The  valley,  which  ^ndened  to  a  plain 
as  we  approached  Gratz,  is   well  cultivated;  grain  and 


106  AT  HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

vegetables  seem  to  thrve,  but  the  vine  ia  poor  and  scanty 
Gratz  is  finely  situated,  on  level  grouna,  at  the  foot  of 
an  isolated  hill  which  is  crowned  by  a  citadel.  The  place 
is  much  visited  in  summer,  on  account  of  the  excursions 
which  may  be  made  from  it  into  the  wilder  parts  of  the 
Styrian  Alps. 

About  noon  we  crossed  the  Drave,  already  a  broad  and 
full  stream.  The  road  then  left  the  mountains,  and  as 
cended  to  a  tract  of  barren  and  rolling  upland,  with  fre- 
quent swamps  and  thickets  of  rank  growth.  Part  of  it 
was  adapted  for  grazing,  but  cultivation  was  scarce,  and 
the  inhabitants  few  and  scattered.  After  some  twenty 
miles  of  this  travel,  the  mountains  again  began  to  appear, 
and  we  descended  to  a  wild  stream  of  transparent  emerald 
color,  which  was  our  guide  to  the  Sate,  in  whose  milky 
blue  waters  its  own  crystal  was  lost.  Among  our  passen- 
gers were  a  company  of  peasants  from  Krain,  or  Kar- 
niola,  returning  home  from  their  work  on  the  Semmer- 
ing.  They  were  dressed  in  coarse  white  woollen  garments 
of  their  own  manufacture,  and  spoke  a  Slavonic  dialect 
which  no  one  could  understand.  They  had  low,  narrow 
foreheads,  high  cheek  bones,  black  and  snaky  eyes,  and 
sharp,  hanging  moustaches,  while  their  complexion  was  a 
reddish  olive.  The  expression  of  their  faces  was  even  more 
villanous  than  that  of  the  Croat  regiments  in  the  Austrian 
service. 

The  last  fifty  miles  of  our  road  followed  the  course  of  the 
Save,  enchanting  us  with  a  succession  of  the  grandest 
mountain  landscapes.  For  the  whole  distance,  the  gorge 
through  which  the  river  passes  is  little  less  than  a  canon, 


THB    BOAD   FBOM   VIENNA  TO   TRIESTB.  107 

in  the  most  Californian  sense  of  the  term.  Thu  watei 
roared  at  our  feet  in  a  continuous  rapid.  The  road  has 
been  cut  through  the  rock  or  built  up  with  much  laboJ 
from  below,  while,  owing  to  the  windings  of  the  river 
Its  curves  are  abrupt  and  frequent.  The  barren  peaks,  so 
closely  ranged  together  that  scarcely  a  side  glen  finds  its 
way  to  the  river,  towered  thousands  of  feet  above  us,  and 
the  only  road  at  their  base,  besides  our  own,  was  a  little 
path  that  hmig  like  a  thread  on  the  opposite  side,  now 
notched  carefully  along  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  now 
dropping  to  the  water,  and  now  climbing  wearily  around 
some  impassable  corner.  At  first,  the  mountains  were 
covered  nearly  to  their  summits  with  forests  which  the 
frost  had  stained  with  a  deep,  dark  crimson  hue,  changing 
to  purple  as  they  stood  more  distant.  The  efiect  of  this 
royal  drapery — these  broad  and  grand  tints,  contrasted 
with  the  dusky  blue  of  the  water  and  the  light  grey  of  the 
granite  rock — was  indescribably  gorgeous.  But  the  moun- 
tains, as  we  advanced,  grew  more  barren,  broken,  and  lofty. 
Cloudy  fleeces  were  piled  high  on  their  summits,  and  the 
invisible  Oreads  spun  them  into  glittering  threads  which  slip- 
ped through  their  fingers  and  dropped  from  cliff  to  cliff  into 
the  lap  of  the  glen.  In  one  place  I  found  a  natural  copy 
of  the  Fountain  of  Vaucluse.  A  large  stream  burst  up 
full  and  strong  from  the  foot  of  a  precipice,  and  after 
driving  a  rude  mill  that  stood  below,  tumbled  foaming 
into  the  Save. 

Towards  sunset,  we  issued  from  the  moimtains,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  afterwards  reached  Laybach,  then  the  termi- 
Dation  of  the  road.     This  town,  the  capital  of  Carinthia, 


108  AT  HOME  AND   ABBOAD. 

is  a  meagre-looking  place,  and  contains  nothing  of  interest 
Most  of  the  passengers  for  Trieste  took  the  diligence  ou 
arriving  and  travelled  all  night,  but  I  preferred  remaining 
till  morning,  in  order  to  make  the  journey  by  daylight.  At 
the  principal  hotel  I  found  an  English  Colonel,  on  his  way 
to  India,  who  had  made  the  same  choice.  We  went  to  bed 
early,  and  were  called  up  before  daylight  to  take  our  coffee 
and  make  ready  to  start.  The  Colonel  was  very  anxious 
to  have  a  comfortable  place,  with  not  too  many  fellow-pas- 
sengers, and  gave  the  keUner  no  rest  on  the  subject. 
Finally,  as  the  diligence  was  ready  to  start,  the  latter  came 
up,  saying  that  he  had  found  the  very  place — a  sort  of 
coupe,  in  which  there  was  no  one  but  a  lady.  "  Is  she 
young  and  handsome,  and  does  she  speak  French  ?  "  asked 
the  Colonel,  who  was  innocent  of  German.  "  She  is  very 
young  and  beautiful,  and  of  course  she  speaks  French," 
replied  the  kellner.  Hereupon  the  oflScer  took  up  his  cloak 
and  went  down,  rejoicing  over  his  agreeable  companion ; 
but  what  was  his  horror,  when  the  day  broke,  to  find  a 
Styrian  Baroness,  old,  fat,  frightfully  plain,  and  ignorant  of 
French !  I  was  more  lucky,  in  finding  a  separate  vehicle, 
in  which  there  was  a  young  Bavarian  officer.  I  gave  him  a 
cigar,  he  spread  half  of  his  camp-cloak  over  my  knees, 
and  thenceforth  we  fraternized  perfectly. 

It  was  a  damp,  dark  morning,  but  the  horns  of  the  pos- 
tilions blew  a  merry  peal  as  we  rolled  out  of  Laybach. 
The  roads  were  in  a  miserable  condition  from  recent 
rains,  and  the  wet  plain  over  which  we  drove  seemed 
interminable.  During  the  forenoon  we  passed  over  man^ 
ranges  of  hills,  running  parallel  with  the  coast,  and  inclos 


TILK   KOAD   FKOM   VUENKA   TO   TBIBSTB.  109 

ing  valleys  of  green  and  pleasant  aspect,  but  tie  country 
grew  more  bleak  and  cold  as  we  approached  the  Adriatic. 
The  woods,  which  were  just  touched  with  the  frost  when  1 
left  Vienna,  were  here  bare  of  leaves.  Cultivation  was 
confined  almost  entirely  to  the  valleys,  where  the  young 
wheat  was  beginning  to  look  green.  I  saw  a  few  herdsmeii 
on  the  hill-tops,  tending  their  sheep  and  goats  among  the 
stones,  but  most  of  the  inhabitants  were  employed  in  keep- 
ing the  roads  in  order  or  begging  of  the  passengers.  They 
are  a  starved-looking  race,  kin  to  the  Croats.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  Goldsmith's  record  of  the  inhospitality  of  the 
"  rude  Carinthian  boor  "  is  perfectly  correct.  The  Ameri- 
can Bloomers  will  be  surprised  to  learn  that  the  Carinthian 
women  are  before  them  in  the  movement.  Their  skirts 
just  reach  to  the  knee,  but  they  have  not  yet  got  as  far  as 
the  Turkish  trowsers.  They  either  go  bare-legged  or  wear 
hussar  boots. 

K  anything  had  been  wanting  to  convince  me  of  the 
poverty  of  this  region,  it  was  supplied  by  the  dinner  they 
gave  us  at  Adelsberg.  The  force  of  leanness  and  of  mean- 
ness could  no  further  go.  The  necessity  of  reaching  Trieste 
a  day  before  the  departure  of  the  steamer,  prevented  me 
from  visiting  the  celebrated  Grotto  of  Adelsberg,  near  the 
village,  and  the  quicksilver  mines  of  Idria,  which  are  not 
more  than  twenty  miles  distant.  The  geological  character 
of  the  country  between  Adelsberg  and  Trieste  is  very 
remarkable.  It  is  called  the  Karst^  and  consists  of  ranges 
of  stony  hills,  almost  destitute  of  vegetation.  The  sides  of 
these  hills  and  the  valleys  between  them,  are  pierced  with 
cup-like  hollows,  from  which  the  rains  are  evidently  carried 


110  AT   UO&CB  AND   ABBOAD. 

oflf  hy  aubterraneau  drains.  They  are  in  some  places  quiU 
dee}  and  precipitous,  and  the  road  winds  along  on  the  nar 
row  partition  walls  between  them. 

[That  portion  of  the  railroad  which  crosses  the  Karst  is  a 
work  of  immense  labor.  The  descent  to  Trieste  is  so  steep 
that  the  track  is  carried  many  miles  to  the  westward, 
whence  it  returns  in  a  sharp  angle.  The  wind  called  the 
Bora,  which  blows  over  the  southern  edge  of  the  table- 
land, is  at  times  strong  enough  to  stop  the  trains,  which  are 
often  detained  several  hours  from  this  cause.  On  the  old 
post-road  there  are  special  officials,  chosen  for  their  fami- 
liarity with  the  wind  and  its  accompanying  signs,  whose 
duty  it  is  to  inform  travellers  whether  they  can  pass  with 
safety.  When  the  wind  is  at  its  height,  it  is  strong  enough 
to  overturn  the  heaviest  wagons,  and  the  officials  have  then 
authority  to  prevent  every  one  from  passing.  During  the 
Italian  Revolution  of  1849,  a  company  of  dragoons,  on 
their  way  to  Lombardy,  were  stopped  for  this  reason.  The 
officer,  a  young  fellow  with  more  brag  than  brains,  said, 
"  We  are  going  to  beat  the  rebels,  and  it  is  foolish  to  think 
the  wind  can  stop  us,"  marched  on  in  defiance  of  the  official 
warning,  and  was  presently,  horse  and  aU,  blown  off  the 
|)recipice.  Out  of  the  whole  company,  but  sixteen  men 
escaped.] 

We  were  very  anxious  to  reach  Trieste  before  dark,  but 
after  twelve  hours  of  tedious  driving  the  sun  went  down 
TiOd  we  were  still  distant.  We  had  heard  much  of  the 
rains,  5cent  view  from  the  crest  of  the  mountains  behind 
inter'  t.  view,  which,  it  is  said,  takes   in  the   entire 

t'  Adriatic,  from  Venice  to  the  mountain  head- 


THE    ROAD    FROit    VIEXXA   TO   TRIESTE.  Ill 

land  of  Pola.  This  was  nothing,  however,  to  the  lazy 
Cai-inthian  postilion,  who  scarcely  allowed  his  three  horses 
to  stretch  their  rope  traces.  The  last  light  of  sunset 
showed  us  the  mountains  of  Friuli,  far  to  the  right,  and 
then  we  leaned  spitefully  back  in  the  carriage  and  dropped 
the  subject.  We  were  deep  in  criticisms  on  Jenny  Liiid 
voice,  when  a  sudden  exclamation  from  both  of  us  put  a 
stop  to  the  conversation.  A  dark  gulf  yawned  far  below 
us,  half  girdling  a  dusky  plain,  and  just  in  the  centre  of 
the  curve  sparkled  a  glittering  crescent  of  lights,  branch- 
ing into  long  lines  or  breaking  into  showers  of  fiery  dots. 
This  was  Trieste,  gleaming  like  a  tiara  on  the  forehead  of 
the  Adriatic.  Beyond  it  and  far  to  the  south,  the  hills 
of  Istria  loomed  darkly  along  the  horizon.  All  else  was 
vague  and  indistinct  in  the  starlight.  The  air  grewmildei 
as  we  descended,  and  when  I  walked  along  the  quay  on 
my  way  to  the  hotel,  hearing  the  sweet  Italian  tongue  on 
all  sides,  I  could  scarcely  believe  that  the  sun  was  not  still 
shining. 

Trieste  is  comparatively  a  new  town,  and  owes  its  rise 
entirely  to  its  commerce.  Therefore,  though  it  is  clean, 
bright,  and  pleasant,  the  traveller  dismisses  its  edifices  with 
a  glance,  and  finds  much  more  interesting  material  in  the 
crowds  that  throng  its  streets.  The  Orient  is  much 
nearer  than  at  Vienna.  The  Greek  meets  you  at  every 
turn.  The  Turk  grows  familiar,  and  you  make  acquaint- 
ance with  the  Egyptian,  the  Albanian,  and  the  fur-capped 
Dalmatian.  The  mole  is  crowded  with  copper-colored 
sailors  in  dirty  turbans  and  baggy  trousers.  Chibouques 
are  smoked  in  Lloyd's  Cafe,  and  newspapers  in  Hellenic 


112  AT    HOMS    AIrt)    ABtlOAD. 

text  cover  the  tables  of  the  reading  room.  The  Frank 
and  Mussulman  are  seen  cheek  by  jowl  in  the  arcades  of 
the  Exchange,  and  if  vou  go  there  at  two  o'clock  your 
ears  will  be  stunned  with  the  clatter  of  a  dozen  different 
languages. 

/ 


XL 

SMYRNA,  AND  THE    GRECIAN    ARCHIPELAGO. 

[OCTOBER,    1851.] 


The  fare  from  Trieste  to  Alexandria,  by  way  of  Smyrna — 
a  voyage  of  twelve  days — is  about  $40.  This  does  not 
include  provisions,  which  cost  about  15  cents  a  day  addi- 
tional. There  is  a  third  place  for  the  "  scum  of  the  earth," 
80  that  the  second  cabin  is  considered  quite  respectable, 
though  not  aristocratic.  It  is  very  neat,  tolerably  venti- 
lated, and  furnished  with  berths  which  are  perfectly  clean 
and  flealess,  though  rather  hard.  As  I  had  already  been 
seasoned  to  planks,  I  found  them  very  good.  We  rose  at 
daybreak  and  were  immediately  served  with  small  cups  of 
rich  black  coifee.  At  ten  o'clock  there  was  a  substantial 
breakfast,  and  at  four  a  dinner  of  six  courses,  both  of  which 
meals  wore  accompanied  with  wine  ad  libitum — a  light, 
pure  Italian  vintage,  which  Father  Mathew  might  quaff 


114  AT   HOME   Aia>   AEBOAD. 

mthout  endangering  the  sanctity  of  his  pledge.  There 
was  a  barrel  of  the  coarser  sort  on  deck,  which  served  the 
mongrel  Greek  and  Dalmatian  sailors  instead  of  a  water- 
butt.  Our  day  wound  up  with  a  cup  of  tea,  made  in  good 
English  style.  If  one  cannot  endure  such  hardships  as  these 
while  skirting  the  mountain-shores  of  Greece  and  Albania 
let  him  stick  to  his  easy  chair. 

Our  passengers  were  brought  together  from  all  parts  of 
the  earth,  and  from  some  odd  corners  of  Society.  In  the 
after  cabin  there  was  a  Greek,  of  the  noble  family  of 
Mavrocordato ;  the  English  wife  of  a  Turkish  Bey,  and  a 
German  missionary  with  an  English  wife,  bound  for  Bey- 
rout.  In  the  fore  cabin,  there  were  three  Italian  singers, 
going  to  the  Constantinupolitan  opera ;  an  Ionian ;  a  most 
ignorant  Prussian,  bound  for  Athens,  and  a  Swiss.  The 
deck  was  occupied  by  a  Jew  and  his  family,  on  their  way 
to  Jerusalem.  The  man  wore  a  greasy  gown  of  black 
serge,  with  a  beard  reaching  to  his  waist,  and  the  whole 
family  represented  to  the  life  Thackeray's 

"  filthy  Jews  to  larooard, 
Uncombed,  unwashed,  unbarbered." 

They  had  a  young  child,  which  squalled  twice  as  loud  as 
any  uncircumcised  infant  I  ever  heard.  I  recollect  once 
hearing  a  camp-meeting  hymn  which  commenced  "What's 
become  of  the  Hebrew  children  ?  "  I  think  I  could  have 
given  information  as  to  the  locality  of  one  of  the  aforesaid 
children. 

We  pass  unnoticed,  the  distant  view  of  the  Dalmatian 


gMYBKA,    AND  THE   GB£X:nAK   ARCHIPELAGO.  116 

coast,  which  I  have  since  then  visited  and  described.  At 
Corfu,  we  first  touch  classic  earth.  Here  Homer  has  been 
before  as,  and  here  a\  e  may  still  behold  the  Phaeacian  galley 
which  bore  Ulysses  to  his  home,  transformed  into  a  rock 
by  the  vengeance  of  Neptune,  in  sight  of  its  destined 
haven.  Thence  by  Leucadia,  Ithaca,  and  the  shores  of  Elia 
and  Arcadia,  our  keel  ploughs  illustrious  waters.  Beyond 
the  shallow  bay  of  Arcadia,  however,  our  thoughts  are 
recalled  to  later  times:  we  are  in  the  Gulf  of  Navarino. 
The  harbor  where  the  great  maritime  battle  took  place  is 
almost  excluded  from  view  of  the  sea  by  the  long  island  of 
Sphagia  (the  scene  of  Byron's  "Corsair"),  which  lies  across 
its  mouth.  A  short  distance  further,  in  passing  between 
the  island  of  Sapienza  and  the  mainland,  we  run  close  to 
the  town  of  Modon,  whose  massive  walls,  the  memorial  of 
Venetian  sway,  project  into  the  sea.  Another  headland 
brings  us  to  the  Gulf  of  Coron,  and  to  the  sight  of  the 
sublime  mountain  peninsula  which  divides  this,  the  ancient 
Messenian,  from  the  Laconian  Gulf  beyond.  Towards  its 
extremity  the  Taygetus  suddenly  terminates,  but  the  narrow 
strip  of  Cape  Matapan  is  thrust  in  advance,  like  the  paw 
of  a  sleeping  lion,  driving  its  rocky  talons  into  the  sea. 
The  aspect  of  this  promontory,  which  is  the  most  southerr 
point  of  Europe,  is  remarkably  grand.  The  perpendiculai 
walls  of  dark-red  rock  which  form  the  cape  are  several 
hundred  feet  in  height,  and  the  wild  ridges  of  the  Tay. 
getus  rise  gradually  behind  them  to  an  elevation  of  7,000 
feet. 

Wlien  I  went  on  deck  the  next  morning,  we  were  in  the 
Grecian  Archipelago.     The  islands  of  Serphos  and  Siphan 


116  Ar  HOliEB  XSTD  ABBOAB. 

tos  were  already  behind  us;  Anti-Paros,  Paros,  and  Kaxoa 
retreated  beyond  each  other,  &r  to  the  East;  the  low 
shores  of  Deles  rose  in  front,  with  Mykonos  still  further 
oflf,  and  the  hills  of  Tinos  blushed  in  the  sunrise  over  the 
nearer  coast  of  Syra.  We  doubled  a  rocky  cape  and 
entered  the  harbor,  just  as  the  sunshine  reached  the  top  of 
the  mountain-cone  on  which  the  old  city  is  built.  The  bril- 
liant white  of  the  flat  Oriental  houses,  which  rise  tier  above 
tier  up  the  craggy  steep,  contrasted  finely  with  the  soft 
morning  sky  and  the  perfect  ultramarine  of  the  water.  It 
was  something  more  than  a  sunrise  to  me;  it  was  the 
dawn  of  the  Orient. 

During  a  day  and  a  half  that  we  lay  at  anchor  there,  1. 
became  quite  as  well  acquainted  with  the  city  as  I  desired. 
Its  Oriental  character  holds  good  in  every  respect — all  fair 
ness  without  and  all  filth  within.  There  is  but  one  respect- 
able street,  which  you  enter  on  landing — a  sort  of  bazaar, 
covered  with  ragged  awning,  and  occupied  by  the  principal 
merchants.  The  rest  is  a  wilderness  of  dirty  lanes,  barely 
wide  enough  for  two  persons  to  pass  each  other,  and  spread 
for  more  than  a  mile  along  the  mountain-side.  You  ascend 
and  descend  between  walls,  just  too  high  to  prevent  your 
seeing  anything,  and  after  much  labor,  come  to  a  halt  in  a 
vile  little  court,  breathing  anything  but  balm,  or  perhap? 
on  the  flat  house-top  of  some  astonished  Greek.  Then  you 
return,  picking  your  steps  with  much  trouble,  and  try 
another  course,  but  the  twists  and  turns,  the  steps  here  and 
there  and  the  culs-de-sac  so  bewilder  you,  that  you  finish 
by  finding  yourself  just  where  you  did  not  wish  to  go 
[  tried  the  experiment  twice,  and  aft«r  looking  in  on  the 


tMTRNA,   AND  THE  GBECIAN   ARCHIPELAGO.  117 

domestic  arrangements  of  half  the  families  in  Syra,  gavt 
up  the  attempt. 

The  new  town,  which  contains  upwards  of  20,000  inhabit- 
ants, has  grown  up  entirely  within  the  last  thirty  years. 
The  refugees  fi-om  other  islands,  during  the  Revolution, 
first  built  their  huts  on  the  shore ;  afterwards  the  harbor,  on 
account  of  its  central  position  in  the  Archipelago,  was 
made  the  stopping-place  of  the  French  and  Austrian  steam- 
ers. It  is  now  a  Grecian  naval  and  quarantine  station,  and 
has  an  extensive  and  increasing  commerce  with  the  other 
ports  of  the  Levant.  The  town  at  present  exhibits  every 
sign  of  prosperity  except  cleanliness.  The  quay  is  crowded 
with  sailors,  wearing  the  serai-Turkish  dress  of  the  islands, 
and  the  traffic  in  fruit,  wood,  fish,  grain,  spices  and  tobacco 
is  carried  on  with  great  briskness.  The  shopkeepers  are 
busy,  the  little  markets  are  thronged,  and  the  mechanics 
who  ply  their  several  avocations  in  their  rough  way  look 
too  cheerfully  industrious  to  lack  work.  In  the  ship-yard 
I  counted  ten  vessels  (two  of  300  tons)  on  the  stocks,  be- 
sides a  number  of  small  craft.  Several  large  and  handsome 
edifices  were  going  up,  in  addition  to  the  many  one-story 
boxes  which  the  common  people  inhabit. 

I  accompanied  the  baritone  of  our  Italian  company  on  a 
visit  to  a  Greek  family  of  his  acquaintance.  We  found  at 
home  an  old  lady  and  her  daughter,  who  received  us  very 
cordially,  and  immediately  brought  us  Turkish  coffee,  with 
a  little  jar  ot  quince  jelly.  They  spoke  no  language  but 
Greek,  the  rich,  whispering  flow  of  which  is  not  less  sweet 
to  the  ear,  though  less  crystalline  in  accent,  than  Italian 
Both  ladies  had  regular  and  agreeable  features,  and  theii 


118  AT   HOME   AND   ABKOAD. 

iuanners  possessed  a  native  grace  which  I  hardly  expected 
to  find  in  such  a  locality. 

I  rose  before  sunrise  and  went  on  shore,  to  make  the 
ascent  of  the  lofty  peak  wliich  rises  behind  the  town* 
Escaping  from  the  tortuous  lanes  of  New  Syra,  I  crossed  a 
narrow  plain  to  the  foot  of  the  old  town,  which  lises  like 
,\n  immense  sugar-loaf^  at  the  opening  of  a  deep  and  rocky 
<^len.  Here  there  are  not  even  lanes,  but  only  steps  from 
the  bottom  of  the  town  to  the  top,  up  which  the  asses, 
laden  with  water-jars,  toiled  painfully.  The  houses  are 
very  old,  and  raised  on  arches  in  many  places,  where  there 
is  not  soil  enough  to  hold  them.  For  a  while  I  climbed  the 
iitiguing  steps  without  losing  the  way,  but  finally  went 
fctray  on  the  house-tops,  and  surprised  the  inhabitants.  A 
bare-legged  boy,  looking  down  from  the  next  house  above 
me,  shouted  "San  Giorgios?"  I  nodded  my  head,  and 
with  a  spring  he  was  beside  me,  and  went  capering  up  the 
steps  as  a  guide.  Three  or  four  other  urchins  followed,  and 
when  we  reached  the  Church  of  St.  George,  which  crowns 
the  sharp  top  of  the  cone,  I  had  six  attendants.  The  glen 
below  me  was  filled  with  a  long  array  of  women,  with 
water-jars  on  their  heads,  and  boys  driving  laden  asses, 
jxoing  to  and  from  the  fountain  behind  the  town.  I  pointed 
'iO  the  fount  dn  and  then  to  the  peak,  which  Ufled  its  mar- 
ble crags  high  above  us,  and  made  signs  to  the  boys  that 
they  should  accompany  me.  Their  wild  black  eyes  sparkled 
assent,  and  the  tassels  of  the  red  caps  fluttered  in  the  wind 
as  they  leaped  down  the  rocks.  We  went  at  a  breakneck 
rate  into  the  bottom  of  the  glen,  the  shelvy  sides  of  which 
were  laboriously  formed  into  terraces,  planted  with  figs, 
oranges,  and  vines. 


SMYBNA,    AND   THE   GKECIAN   ABCHIPBLAaO.  119 

My  six  guides  took  a  path  which  led  up  the  bed  of  a 
wrintei  torrent,  till  it  opened  on  the  bare  sides  of  the  moun- 
tain. The  sharp  masses  of  rock,  of  which  it  was  composed, 
were  scantily  covered  with  wild  sage  and  other  plants 
which  gave  an  aromatic  and  stimulating  taste  to  the  air,  a? 
they  were  broken  under  our  feet.  The  nimble  hzards; 
scampered  into  their  holes,  but  they  were  not  more  nimblt 
than  my  little  Greeks,  whose  caps  bobbed  up  and  down  as 
they  bounded  Avith  hands  and  f&et  up  the  rocks.  They 
chattered  incessantly  to  one  another  and  to  me,  and  I  talked 
to  them  in  English  and  Italian,  both  parties  enjoying  the 
sonvei'sation,  though  neither  understood  it.  At  last,  when 
we  had  reached  a  rocky  shoulder,  not  far  from  the  summit, 
I  dismissed  them  and  ascended  alone.  I  gave  each  of  then, 
a  piece  of  10  lepta  (the  largest  Greek  copper  coin) ;  they 
laid  their  hands  gravely  across  their  breasts  and  bo^^'ed, 
after  which  their  capers  of  delight  were  most  amusing. 
They  shouted  and  danced  on  the  rocks,  and  then,  clutch 
iiig  the  coins  tightly  in  their  hands,  went  out  of  sight  with 
the  fleetness  of  young  goats. 

A  few  moments  more  of  breathless  climbing  brought  me 
to  the  top  of  the  peak,  which  cannot  be  less  than  two  thou- 
sand feet  in  height.  Some  friendly  hand  had  piled  a  totter- 
mg  tower  of  stones,  iip  which  I  mounted,  and  then  sat 
down  to  breathe  the  delicious  air  and  contemplate  the 
magnificent  view.  The  horizon  was  so  extended  as  to  take 
in  nearly  the  entire  group  of  the  Cyclades,  with  a  few  of 
the  Sporades.  I  counted  twenty-five  islands,  besides  Syra— 
(jomo  rising  into  cloudy  summits,  some  low  and  barren^ 
3ome  lying  in  dark  purple  shadow,  some  gleaming  bright 


120  AT  UOHB  ^JUD  ABBOAD. 

said  yellow  in  the  sun,  and  all  girdled  by  the  same  gloriaut 
blue  of  the  sea.  Here,  almost  at  my  feet,  was  Delos,  where 
Latona  gave  birth  to  Apollo  and  Diana ;  yonder  Paros,  the 
birth-place  of  the  Medicean  Venus  and  the  Dying  Gladia 
tor ;  behind  it  Naxos,  sacred  to  Bacchus  and  Ariadne ;  and 
faint  and  far  to  the  south,  Nio,  where  Homer  died.  To  the 
ivest  lay  Thermia,  Zea,  and  Andros,  and  away  beyond  An- 
dros  the  shadowy  hills  of  Negropont,  the  ancient  Euboea. 
Zea  concealed  the  promontory  of  Cape  Colonna,  but  be- 
tween the  island  and  Negropont,  dim  as  a  dream,  stretched 
the  mainland  of  Attica,  the  tops  of  Hymettus.  In  the 
northeast  I  distinguished  Icaros  and  Samos,  and  in  the 
south  the  topmost  summit  of  Milo.  The  feeling  with  which 
I  gazed  on  that  panorama  can  scarcely  be  expressed  in 
words ;  or  if  in  words,  only  in  that  speech  taught  by  him 
who  was  born  on  Delos. 

On  ray  return,  I  descended  to  the  fountain,  which  gushes 
from  the  solid  rock,  in  the  ravine  behind  the  old  town.  It 
e  the  same  to  which  the  pilgrims  of  old  resorted  for  puri- 
fication, before  visiting  the  shrine  of  Apollo  at  Delos. 
Without  the  supply  of  soft  and  pure  water  which  it  affords, 
the  island  would  not  be  habitable.  I  found  a  number  of 
women  grouped  around  it,  waiting  to  fill  theii*  heavy  jars, 
which  they  then  bore  oflf  on  their  shoulders.  The  water  is 
sold  in  the  town  and  even  retailed  by  the  glass  to  the  sailors 
along  the  quay.  I  came  on  board  like  one  of  the  messen- 
gers fi*ora  Eshkol,  bearing  a  cluster  of  transparent  pink 
grapes,  which  weighed  more  than  four  pounds. 

We  left  Syra  towards  evening,  our  deck  crowded  with 
Greeks,  Turks,  and  Jews.     On    iassino-  the  strait  between 


SMYRNA,    AND   THE   GKBCIAN   A£CHIP£LACK).  121 

linos  and  Mykonos,  we  entered  the  open  sea,  and  made  for 
Scio,  about  fifty  miles  distant.  As  the  night  was  dark,  and 
we  only  touclied  at  the  island  for  half  an  hour,  some  time 
past  midnight,  I  kept  my  berth,  but  rose  at  dawn  to  see  a 
euniise  in  Asia,  for  the  first  time.  We  were  just  euteiing 
the  bay  of  Smyrna — a  magnificent  sheet  of  water,  between 
thirty  and  forty  miles  long,  and  varying  from  five  to  ten 
in  breadth.  Its  shores  are  mountains,  whose  green  and 
wooded  slopes  present  an  agreeable  contrast  to  the  bare 
hills  of  Greece.  The  narrow  plains  at  their  feet  are  covere<^ 
with  gardens  and  grain-fields,  and  dotted  with  white  villages 
and  country-houses. 

After  passing  the  "  Castle  of  the  Sea,"  a  large  white- 
washed fortress  commanding  the  channel,  we  first  see  the 
minarets  of  Smyrna.  Mount  Pagus,  on  the  southern  side, 
crowned  by  its  ruined  citadel,  keeps  the  city  in  shadow,  but 
as  we  approached,  the  mass  of  houses — flat,  dome-like  roofe, 
gay  mosques  and  light  minarets,  stretching  for  nearly  two 
miles  along  the  shore  and  climbing  to  the  dark  cypress- 
groves  of  the  burial  grounds,  high  on  the  hill — grows  dis- 
tinct in  all  its  novel  and  fantastic  features.  Our  boat 
passes  slowly  to  the  Frank  quarter,  in  the  northern  part  of 
the  city,  and  drops  anchor  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the 
shore. 

Smyrna  is  sometimes  called,  in  the  flowery  tongue  of  the 
East,  the  "  Ornament  of  Asia. "  No  one,  who  first  beholds 
ihe  city  from  the  sea,  or  from  the  slopes  of  Mount  Pagus, 
will  hesitate  to  accord  it  so  graceful  a  title.  The  grand  and 
aannonious  features  of  the  landscape,  of  wliich  it  is  the 
central  point,  give  it  an  au-  of  dignity  and  importance^ 


122  AT  UOMS  AND  ABBOAD. 

which  neither  its  streets  and  public  edifices,  nor  the  indic» 
tions  of  foreign  traffic  in  its  harbour,  would  convey.  Il 
hes  at  the  head  of  the  gulf,  and  at  the  mouth  of  a  broad 
and  beautiful  valley,  watered  by  the  River  Hermes,  its 
southern  end  resting  on  the  mountain,  as  an  ^riental  beauty, 
reclining  after  the  bath,  lifts  her  head  on  the  pillows  of  her 
divan.  Its  aspect  is  that  of  majestic  repose ;  the  simple  and 
compact  array  of  its  tiled  roofs  and  white  walls,  brokeE 
here  and  there  by  the  light  shaft  of  a  minaret,  a  slender  cy- 
press, or  the  plumy  top  of  a  palm,  presents  no  point  suffi- 
ciently striking  to  call  one's  attention  to  the  details  of  the 
view.  The  city,  the  sparkling  gulf,  the  Mediterranean  on 
the  horizon,  the  garden-valley,  compassed  on  all  sides  by 
the  cloud-capped  off-shoots  of  the  Taurus  range — all  are 
blended  in  one  superb  panorama,  and  colored  by  the  blue 
and  violet  pencils  of  the  Ionian  air.  Here  Asia — ^grand, 
though  fallen  Asia — has  most  solemnly,  most  sublimely  im- 
pressed the  seal  of  her  destiny. 

The  caty,  after  you  have  entered  it,  loses  this  impressive 
effect,  but  gives  you  an  endless  variety  of  bizarre  and  pic- 
turesque forms.  I  landed  alone,  within  an  hour  after  my 
arrival,  and  selected  one  from  the  crowd  of  shabby  drago- 
men on  the  quay,  to  be  my  guide  through  the  city.  The 
subject  of  my  choice  turned  out  to  be  a  Spanish  Jew,  whom 
I  ignominiously  dismissed,  when  he  attempted  to  palm  ofl 
an  old  synagogue  as  the  chief  mosque  of  Smyrna.  The 
main  street  of  the  Frank  quarter,  which  lies  next  the  water, 
iH  narrow,  crooked,  ill  paved,  and  very  dirty.  There  b  no 
house  in  the  city  more  than  two  stories  in  height,  and  none 
of  any  pretensions  to  architectural   beauty,  though   the 


8MTENA,   AND  THE   GRECIAN   ARCHrPELAGO.  12S 

Franks  boast  several  cool  court-yards  with  fountains.  The 
Frank  signs  are  principally  in  Greek  and  Italian,  but  the 
porters,  donkey-drivers,  and  boatmen,  who  beset  you  on 
landing,  are  full  of  English  and  Spanish  phrases. 

Nearly  every  man  one  meets  here  is  a  study.  The  very 
boatmen  who  came  to  take  us  ashore,  with  their  red  bags 
for  pantaloons,  brawny  brown  arms,  and  weather-beaten  tar- 
booshes, were  picturesque.  Then,  as  I  first  touched  Asian 
soil,  I  jostled  against  a  group  of  shawl-girt  mountaineers, 
armed  with  heavy  sabres,  and  turning  down  the  first  street, 
I  met  a  string  of  camels,  laden  with  water-skins.  In  the 
crowd  that  followed  them  I  recognised  Arabs,  Greeks,  Ar- 
menians, and  Egyptians,  besides  the  difterent  varieties  of 
Turks  and  Franks.  Tall  Mussulmans  stood  in  the  entrances 
of  the  courtyards,  beside  baskets  of  transparent  pink,  green, 
and  purple  grapes;  porters,  with  small  board-yards  and 
brick-kilns  strapped  on  their  backs,  steered  their  blind  way 
through  the  crooked  alleys ;  a  company  of  Turkish  women, 
masked  and  muffled  in  loose  robes,  stared  in  the  faces  of 
the  Franks,  and  the  long-drawn  '■'■guard-a-a  I "  (take  care ! ) 
of  the  donkeymen,  sounding  every  instant  behind  me- 
obliged  me  to  take  the  wall  and  suspend  my  observations. 
The  streets  are  so  narrow  that  the  projecting  eaves  of  the 
houses  touch  in  many  places,  and  a  laden  donkey  almost 
blocks  the  passage. 

My  Jewish  guide  set  oflf  on  a  quick  trot  and  soon 
brought  me  to  the  entrance  of  the  bazaars.  The  Smymiote 
bazaars,  I  should  here  state,  are  merely  streets  of  one  story 
shops,  covered  with  a  loose  roofing  of  boards,  which  makes 
them  very  cool  and  agreeable  during  the  hot  mid-day  hoora. 


124  AT   HOMK   AND    ABROAD. 

They  are  open  thoroughfares,  and  the  cry  of  ^^gtiarda/** 
is  never  out  of  one's  ears.  Some  skill  is  required  to  avoid 
being  run  over  by  a  camel,  knocked  down  by  a  donkey,  or 
punched  in  the  head  by  a  perambulating  board-pile.  The 
first  bazaar  I  entered  is  mostly  occupied  by  the  Franks, 
who  have  a  large  display  of  printed  cotton  goods.  I  wasted 
no  time  on  the  red-capped  Italian  and  Greek  shopkeepers, 
but  hastened  on  to  the  Turkish  quarter,  where  the  calra 
impassive  merchants,  reclining  on  their  carpets,  scarcely  put 
aside  the  amber  mouth-pieces  of  their  chibouks,  to  reply  to 
a  customer.  Here  the  plash  of  water  from  the  public  foun- 
tdns  sounds  cool  and  grateful,  and  the  air  is  impregnated 
with  the  subtle  and  delicate  aroma  of  spices.  At  the  cor- 
ners stand  the  venders  of  sherbet,  and  near  them  the  smoke 
ascends  from  pans  of  simmering  kibabs  and  various  other 
Turkish  dishes,  which  I  was  content  with  beholding.  The 
rich  gleam  of  the  silks  of  Brousa,  the  Persian  scarfe,  and 
the  golden  fringes  and  embroidered  work  displayed  in  the 
shops  of  the  Turkish  and  Persian  merchants,  was  a  much 
less  gorgeous  sight  to  me  than  that  of  the  lazy  owners,  with 
their  large  black  eyes,  half  closed  in  beatific  dreams,  over 
the  bubbling  narghileh.  In  the  Persian  quarter,  I  saw 
several  beautiful  children,  but  one  boy  whose  face  was  that 
of  an  angel.  Raphael's  cherubs,  in  his  Madonna  di  San 
Sisto,  are  less  divine  in  their  loveliness.  If  the  children  of 
the  Moslem  Paradise  are  thus  beautiful,  I  know  no  artist 
who  would  not  willingly  go  there. 

I  also  visited  the  slave  bazaar,  which  is  m  the  Turkish 
part  of  the  city.  The  keepers  at  first  objected  to  my  en- 
trance, but  a  small  backsheesh  removed  their  scraplea.    I 


SKYBNA,    AND  THE   GEECIAN   ARCHIPELAaO.  12fi 

was  ushered  into  a  court-yard,  around  which  about  twenty 
Nubians  lay  grouped  in  the  sun — small,  thick-lipped,  flat- 
headed  creatures,  whose  faces  exhibited  a  sort  of  passive 
good-humor,  but  not  the  slightest  sign  of  intelligence. 
They  are  the  lowest  and  cheapest  kind  of  slaves,  bringing 
ft'om  $50  to  $150  each,  and  are  purchased  by  the  Turks  for 
house-servants.  The  keeper  assured  me  that  he  would  buy 
provisions  for  them  with  the  backsheesh,  but  I  have  no  idea 
that  he  kept  his  word. 

After  dismissing  my  guide,  I  took  my  beaiings  as  accu- 
rately as  possible  and  plunged  into  the  Turkish  quarter, 
seeking  a  way  to  the  burial-ground.  The  further  I  went 
from  the  bazaars,  the  more  quiet  grew  the  streets,  and  very 
soon  I  saw  no  more  Frank  dresses.  A  masked  Turkish 
lady  who  passed,  looked  at  me  steadily  with  two  of  the 
most  superb  eyes  I  ever  saw,  but  the  next  that  came  drew 
her  mantle  over  her  head  and  crouched  close  to  the  oppo- 
site wall,  so  that  the  unclean  Frank  might  not  even  brush 
her  garments.  As  the  streets  began  to  ascend  the  hill,  I 
was  at  a  loss  which  to  take,  but  climbed  the  stones  at  ran- 
dom, till  I  reached  a  fountain.  A  number  of  children  who 
were  gathered  around  it,  made  signs  that  I  should  return, 
dnd  cried  out  "  chkatch  I  chkatch  !  " — which  I  took  to  be 
the  Turkish  ftjr  "  dogs ! "  since  I  had  not  gone  a  dozen  steps 
further  before  a  whole  pack  of  those  animals  set  upon  me 
and  forced  me  to  beat  a  hasty  retreat.  I  reached  the  grove 
of  cypresses  without  further  adventure,  and  sat  down  to 
rest  on  a  broken  pillar,  taken  from  the  ruins  of  Ancient 
Smyrna  to  be  the  headstone  of  a  Turk.  The  Turks,  unlike 
the  Christians,  never  bmy  one  generation  in  the  ashes  of 


126  AT  HOICB  AND   ABROAD. 

anotber,  and  consequently  the  burial-ground  is  always  ud 
larging  its  limits.  The  tombstones,  with  their  torbaned 
tops,  are  innumerable,  and  the  pride  of  some  families, 
whose  names  are  emblazoned  in  golden  Arabic  letters  on 
pillars  painted  scarlet  or  sky-blue,  is  doubly  vain  and  rid* 
ouloas  amid  the  neglect  and  decay  which  the  hoary  cy 
presses  have  looked  upon  for  many  centuries. 

I  climbed  the  breezy  sides  of  Mount  Pagus  to  the  ruintt 
of  the  ancient  citadel,  passing  on  my  way  many  fragments 
of  cut  stone,  traces  of  walls  and  gateways,  which,  with 
some  cisterns  and  foundations,  are  all  that  remain  of  the 
old  city.  The  hill  was  covered  with  droves  of  camels,  who 
lifted  their  solemn  heads  from  the  dry  shrubs  upon  which 
they  were  browsing,  and  looked  at  me  with  the  same  pas- 
Mve  faces  as  their  masters.  From  the  crest  of  Mount 
Pagus  I  looked  down  into  the  valley  of  the  Meles,  on  its 
southern  side,  and  beyond,  over  the  rolling  plains  that 
stretched  far  inland.  But  the  view  of  Smyrna  and  its  gar- 
dens, the  mountains  and  the  sea,  attracted  me  still  more. 
I  sat  for  hours  on  a  rock,  under  the  battered  wall  of  the 
castle,  without  being  able  to  take  my  eyes  from  the  sublime 
landscape.  I  was  afterwards  told  that  I  ran  the  risk  of 
being  robbed,  as  the  Franks  of  Smyrna  are  rather  shy  of 
wandering  alone  among  the  ruins.  I  then  descended  the, 
eastern  side  to  the  Caravan  Bridge,  a  favorite  resort  of  the 
Smyriiiotes.  The  banks  of  the  Meles  are  crowded  with 
coffee-houses,  and  one  may  there  inhale  the  perfume  of 
genuine  Latakia  under  the  shade  of  plane-trees  and  acacias 


SMTBNA,    AND    THE     GRECIAN     AKCHIPELAGO,  12t 

The  night  of  our  departure  from  Smyrna  we  saw  Mity- 
lene,  the  ancient  Lesbos,  and  Scio,  by  moonlight.  I  saw 
little  except  the  illuminated  outline  of  Scio,  but  that  alone 
was  beautiful.  When  I  arose  at  sunrise,  the  rock  of  Patmos 
was  just  vanishing  in  the  rear,  and  the  blue  cliffs  of  Cos 
appeared  in  front.  The  home  of  Apelles  is  rocky  and  bar- 
ren, and  I  could  distinguish  little  sign  of  habitation  on  its 
western  coast.  But  this  island,  like  the  other  Sporades  be 
tween  which  we  sailed,  presents  such  an  unfailing  harmonj 
m  their  forms,  the  sunshine  lies  so  warm  and  rosy  along 
their  sides,  the  shadows  of  their  peaks  are  so  deeply  violet 
in  their  hue,  and  the  sea  and  sky  which  hold  them  in  their 
embrace,  are  so  pure  and  brilliant,  that  we  forget  their  past 
glory  and  their  present  desolation.  Rhodes  and  Karpathoa 
were  the  last  we  saw ;  they  formed  the  portal  of  our  high- 
way to  Egypt,  and  they  lingered  for  hours  on  the  horizon, 
as  if'  to  call  us  back  to  the  Grecian  Isles. 


XII. 

A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  THURINGIAN  FOREST. 


Had  it  not  been  for  the  Prussian  Consul  in  Constantinople 
— a  gentleman  whom  I  never  saw,  and  of  whose  name  I  am 
ignorant — ^I  should  probably  never  have  visited  the  Thflrin- 
giau  Forest.  The  chain  of  causes,  events,  and  sequences, 
which  is  interwoven  with  a  very  important  portion  of  my 
'ife,  reaches  back  to  him  and  there  stops.  He  is  conse- 
quently responsible  for  more  than  he  knows,  or  has  ever 
dreamed  of.  Trace  back  any  event  of  your  life  until  you 
find  the  starting-point  whence  you  set  out  upon  the  track 
of  it — the  switch^  in  railroad  parlance,  which  throws  the  car 
of  your  destiny  upon  quite  anothei  Une  of  rail  than  you  had 
chosen  for  it — and  how  unnoticed,  how  trifling,  how  absurd, 
frequently,  is  the  beginning!  The  merest  .'Occident  (yet 
who  shall  dare  to  say  that  such  things  are  accidental  ?)  fre- 
quently leads  a  man  into  his  true  career,  which  he  might 
not  otherwise  have  found,    T  remember  to  have  seen  an 


A  WALK  THBOUGH  THE   THUBIXGIAN   F0BE8T.         129 

ingenious  genealogy  of  the  American  Revolution,  which  waa 
traced  back,  step  by  step,  to  a  quarrel  about  a  pig.  Zschokke 
has  written  a  curious  double  story  based  upon  this  singular 
uccession  of  causes,  in  which  a  poor  boy,  by  throwing 
down  a  dough-trough,  attains  wealth  and  rank;  while  a 
nobleman  of  talent  and  character  is  reduced  to  disgrace  and 
beggary,  by  spilling  a  bottle  of  ink. 

But  you  ask,  how  is  the  Prussian  Consul  at  Constantino- 
ple responsible  for  my  visit  to  the  Thttringian  Forest  ?  In 
this  way.  A  German  traveller  reached  Constantinople  in 
October,  1851,  on  his  way  to  Greece  and  Palestine.  Having 
made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Prussian  Consul  there,  the  lat- 
ter prevailed  upon  him,  at  the  last  moment,  to  change  his 
plans,  and  visit  Egypt  instead.  So  urgent  was  he,  that  he 
gave  the  traveller  letters  to  the  Consul  in  Smyrna,  who 
seconded  his  advice — and  it  was  not  until  after  he  had 
reached  the  latter  place,  that  the  traveller  decided  to  embark 
for  Alexandria  instead  of  the  Pirseus.  The  Lloyd  steamer 
for  Egypt  was  ready  to  start,  and  among  the  last  arrivals 
on  board  was  the  German.  One  of  the  passengers  already 
on  board  was  an  American,  bound  for  the  White  Nile.  A 
chance  remark  led  to  an  acquaintance,  the  two  travelled 
together  to  the  Nubian  frontier,  and  parted  under  the  pahn- 
trees  at  Assouan,  as  friends  for  life. 

The  rest  of  the  chain  is  easily  followed.  I  promised  t  i 
nsit  my  friend  in  his  Thttringian  home.  In  August  of  tha 
following  year  I  returned  from  the  Orient  by  way  of  It&lj 
and  the  Tyrol,  and  reached  Gotha  towards  the  end  of  Sej." 
teniber.  The  ten  days  to  which  I  had  limited  my  staj , 
previous  to  leaving  for  China  and   Japan,  extended  t-» 


130  AT  HOUB  AND   ABBOAD. 

twenty  or  more  under  the  iDfluence  of  true  German  hos 
pitality  A  part  of  the  entertainment,  with  anticipatory 
descriptions  of  which  my  friend  had  often  beguiled  the 
sweet  Egyptian  twilights,  was  a  journey  through  the  Thfl- 
ringian  Forest.  The  season  had  been  cold,  and  the  autumn 
was  fast  waning  at  the  time  of  my  arrival,  so  we  started 
in  a  day  or  two  afterwards. 

Taking  the  road  to  Eisenach,  we  climbed  the  hill  of  the 
Wartburg,  on  a  sunny  morning.  The  femous  old  castle, 
which  has  since  been  restored  to  its  ancient  condition,  as 
near  as  can  be  ascertained,  was  at  that  time  very  dilapi- 
dated, although  still  habitable.  It  is  known  to  us  princi- 
pally from  the  fact  that  Luther  was  sheltered  within  its 
walls  for  a  year,  and  there  completed  his  translation  of  the 
Bible ;  but  to  the  German  it  is  rich  in  historical  associa- 
tions. Here  lived  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  wife  of  the  Land- 
grave Ludwig  (read  Charles  Kingsley's  "Saint's  Tra- 
gedy "),  whose  holy  charity  not  only  justified  her  in  the 
utterance  of  a  lie,  but  procured  a  miracle  to  confirm  it. 
Sausages  and  cold  chickens  turned  to  roses  in  her  apron, 
that  her  lord  might  not  see  and  censure  her  lavish  gifts  to 
the  poor.  Here,  also,  in  1207,  occurred  the  famous  Sdn- 
gerkrieff,  or  Battle  of  the  Troubadours,  in  which  the  re- 
nowned Minnesingers,  Heinrich  von  Ofterdingen,  Walter 
von  der  Vogelweide,  and  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach,  took 
part.  Few  other  spots  in  Germany  shine  so  brightly  in 
knightly  and  ecclesiastical  story. 

Luther's  room  is  still  preserved  in  its  original  barenesi 
bud  simplicity.  A  sinjrle  window  looks  westward  over  the 
wooded  hills'  a  huge  stove  of  earthen  tiles,  a  table,  and 


A    WALK.  TBBOUQB   THB  THUBUivilAN  FOBBST.         181 

lome  chairs  of  rough  oak,  are  the  only  famitare.  The 
&moas  ink-blotch  on  the  wall  is  conscientiously  renewed 
every  time  the  room  is  whitewashed.  An  original  portrait 
of  Luther,  his  autograph,  and  the  plain  suit  of  armoi 
trhich  he  wore,  as  "  Squire  George,"  are  also  preserved 
here.  The  visitors'  book  lay  open  upon  the  table  where 
he  was  wont  to  write.  As  I  approached  it  for  the  pur 
pose  of  inscribing  my  name,  the  last  entry  on  the  page 
(written  only  the  day  before)  was :  "  Thomas  Garlyle^  in 
I/utlier's  room^  fvM  of  reverence.'''*  On  visiting  the  same 
room,  two  years  ago,  I  was  confronted  by  a  stout,  full- 
bearded,  handsome  gentleman,  who  appeared  to  be  very 
much  at  home  there.  Supposing  him  to  be  an  artist,  I 
brushed  past  him  into  the  room.  He  looked  very  fixedly 
at  me ;  but  artists  have  a  way  of  examining  feces,  so  I 
paid  no  attention  to  it.  He  was  the  reigning  Duke  of 
Saxe-Weimar. 

In  the  armory  there  is  a  small  but  very  curious  collec- 
tion of  weapons  and  coats  of  mail.  Among  them  is  that 
of  Kunz  von  Kaufungen,  who  carried  off  the  two  young 
princes,  progenitors  of  the  Ernestine  and  Albertine  lines 
of  the  House  of  Saxony.  The  old  walls  have  been  replas- 
tered  and  adorned  with  frescoes  representing  the  history 
of  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  and  famous  incidents  in  the 
Lives  of  the  Landgraves  of  Thtlringia.  There  is  Hermann 
with  his  hunters,  on  the  site  of  the  castle,  charmed  with 
the  view,  and  exclaiming :  "  Wait,  mountain,  and  I'll  build 
a  fortress  upon  you ! "  (whence  the  name  Wartburg)  ; 
there  Lud\vig  walks  unarmed  against  the  escaped  Uon, 
and  drives  him  back  to  his  den  ;  and  there  another  Lan(i 


182  AT  HOMS  AND  ABBOAD. 

grave,  whose  uame  I  have  forgotten,  proudly  exbibitb  bu 
means  of  defence  to  the  German  Emperor.  When  the 
latter,  who  was  visiting  him,  remarked  that  his  castle  was 
without  walls,  the  Landgrave  replied :  "  I  will  show  youi 
Majesty  my  walls  to-morrow."  The  next  morning,  the 
Emperor  was  aroused  by  the  sound  of  trumpets.  The 
Landgrave  conducted  him  to  a  balcony,  whence  he  beheld 
the  castle  surrounded  by  a  triple  circle  of  armed  men. 
" There,  your  Majesty ! "  said  he ;  "a  living  wall  is  the 
best." 

Leaving  the  Wartburg,  we  wandered  down  into  the 
deep  Marienthal,  or  Glenmary,  a  picturesque  valley,  formed 
by  the  junction  of  two  or  three  narrow  dells.  A  pile  of 
rocks  on  our  left  is  called  the  Maiden's  Den,  from  an  old 
tradition  that  a  princess,  for  some  misdeed,  was  shut  up 
within  them,  only  to  be  released  when  some  one  should 
say  "  God  bless  you ! "  twelve  times  in  succession,  in 
answer  to  her  sneezing.  As  she  can  only  try  the  experi- 
ment at  midnight,  it  is  needless  to  say  that  she  is  still  con* 
fined  there.  Once,  indeed,  a  belated  knight  made  the  proper 
response  to  eleven  sneezes,  but  when  the  twelfth  came, 
his  patience  gave  way,  and  he  uncourteously  exclaimed : 
"  Oh !  the  devil  take  you  I " 

At  the  end  of  the  valley  we  entered  the  Annathal, 
which  is  a  curious  natural  split,  extending  for  more  than  a 
nile  through  the  mountains.  Formerly  it  was  the  bed  of 
an  impetuous  little  stream,  now  bridged  over  for  nearly  the 
whole  distance,  so  that  the  roar  of  waters  is  constantly  , 
beneath  your  feet  as  you  walk  between  the  twisted  wallt 
of  rock.    The  foliage  of  the  forest  on  the  summit  of  th« 


A  WAUi  THROUGH   THB  THUBINGIAN   FOREST.         133 

cliffs  completely  intercepts  the  sky ;  brilliant  mosses  r.ovei 
the  moist  walls,  and  fringes  of  giant  fern  spring  from  every 
crevice.  Deep,  fX)ol,  dark,  and  redolent  of  woodland  aroma, 
it  resembles  a  dell  in  fairyland,  and  the  ferns  and  harebells 
were  yet  vibratLog  from  the  feet  of  the  retreating  elves,  as 
we  passed  along.  Fresh  from  the  blazing  Orient,  where 
the  three  delights  of  life  are  shade,  moisture,  and  verdure, 
I  was  enchanted  with  the  successive  beauties  which  our 
semi-subterranean  path  unfolded. 

Emerging,  at  last,  upon  an  open  height,  we  found  an 
inn,  with  the  ambitious  name  of  the  Lofty  Sun,  where  we 
ate  fresh  mountain-trout  in  an  arbor  of  clipped  lindens. 
Thence  a  path  of  some  miles  over  the  hills  brought  us  to 
the  village  of  Ruhla,  famous  through  all  Germany  for  its 
meerschaum  pipes  and  beautiful  girls.  At  the  inn  where 
we  stopped,  it  was  the  eve  of  a  wedding-day.  The  land- 
lord's daughter,  in  whom  I  found  the  reputation  of  the 
village  justified,  was  to  be  married  on  the  morrow,  and  the 
kitchen  was  full  of  rosy  damsels,  baking  and  brewing  with 
might  and  main.  The  bride — not  without  a  pretty  blush — 
brought  us  each  a  glass  of  wine  and  a  piece  of  cake,  and 
we,  of  course,  drank  to  her  wedded  happiness.  But  our 
quarters  for  the  night  lay  beyond  another  and  higher  moun- 
tain, and  the  dusk  was  gathering  in  the  deep  valley. 

Had  we  not  taken  a  guide,  we  should  have  lost  our  way 
in  the  forest.  Finally,  a  sparkle  appeared  ahead — ^then  a 
broad  flame,  gilding  the  white  trunks  of  the  beech-trees, 
and  brightening  the  gold  of  their  autumnal  leave^^.  The 
forester  was  at  Hs  post,  awaiting  our  coming,  at  the  ducal 
hunting    lodge    on   the    moimtain.     The    costly    timbei 


184  AT   HOME    AND   ABBOAD. 

crackled  on  the  bonfire  he  had  made,  and  the  torch  of 
our  encampment  was  seen  by  many  a  distant  village. 
There  was  a  supply  of  beer,  potatoes,  black  bread,  and 
sausage — true  hunter's  fare — and  our  jovial  supper  was 
made  by  the  firelight.  We  talked  of  Egypt,  and  the 
forester  listened,  only  repeating  now  and  then,  with  heartj 
emphasis :  "  To  think  that  it  should  happen  so !  That  you 
two  should  meet,  away  in  that  savage  country,  and  here 
you  are  by  my  fire ! "  This  was  my  first  acquaintance  with 
the  forester,  who  was  the  last  friend  to  bid  me  farewell  at 
Hamburg,  on  my  last  return  from  Europe. 

We  slept  on  a  bed  of  hay  in  the  lodge,  washed  our  faces 
in  the  cold  mountain  spring,  and  ate  our  breakfast  by  a 
new  fire.  During  the  forenoon  our  route  lay  westward 
over  the  mountains  to  Altenstein,  a  summer  residence  of 
the  Duke  of  Meiningen.  As  we  approached  the  castle,  the 
duke  himself — a  remarkably  handsome  man,  plainly  dressed 
in  a  green  frock-coat  and  black  felt  bat — passed  us  on  the 
lawn.  He  answered  our  salutations  with  a  friendly  bow. 
We  lingered  awhile  on  the  terrace,  which  commands  a 
lovely  view,  stretching  away  over  leagues  of  valley-land  to 
the  mountiuns  of  the  Rhon.  In  fact,  the  castle  and  park 
of  Altenstein  occupy  the  whole  of  a  natural  mountain-ter- 
race, liiled  high  above  the  subject  lands.  The  declivity, 
lealing  down  to  the  mineral  springs  of  Liebenstein,  is 
interrupted  by  bold  and  picturesque  formations  of  rock 
We  visited  the  Altar,  the  Basket  of  Flowers,  the  Pulpit, 
and  various  curious  basaltic  piles,  and  finally  reaching  the 
Giant's  Harp,  threw  ourselves  down  on  the  wai-m  grass  to 
rest.    Here,  io  a  narrow,  perpendicular  deft,  between  two 


A   WALK    THROUGH    THK  THUEIXGIAIT  PC  REST.         185 

rocky  pillars,  thirty  feet  high,  wires  have  been  inserted, 
after  the  manner  of  an  ^olian  harp.  The  cleft  is  closed 
by  a  shutter,  the  opening  of  which,  when  there  is  any 
breeze,  creates  a  draft  sufficient  to  awake  the  weird,  oracu- 
ai  music. 

The  mountains  around  loomed  softly  through  golden 
Fapor,  as  we  lay  upon  the  lonely  hiU-side,  gazing  on  the 
vanishing  blue  of  the  landscape,  with  lazy,  receptive  minds, 
which  nothing,  it  seemed,  could  either  have  especially  dis- 
gusted or  inspired.  Presently  a  sweet,  timorous,  penetrat- 
ing tone  grew  upon  the  air,  falling  and  swelling  in  appeal- 
ing pulsations — then  a  chorus  of  many  notes,  so  blended 
in  one  delicate  breath  of  harmony  that  you  knew  not 
whether  they  were  sad  or  jubilant;  and  finally,  gathering 
•'ourage,  the  full  volume  of  wandering  sound  wrapped  us 
»n  its  powerftd  embrace.  Tones  that  traversed  all  space, 
that  bridged  the  profoundest  chasms  of  time,  met  our  ears. 
We  heard  the  timbrel  of  Miriam,  the  shawms  and  dul- 
cimers of  David,  the  wail  of  Jephthah,  and  the  honeyed 
madrigals  of  Solomon — Delphic  strains  from  the  hollows 
of  Grecian  hills,  and  the  sea-bom  songs  of  Calypso  and  the 
Sirens.  But  under,  or  above  all,  recurred  at  intervals  a 
Bobbiug  string — a  note  of  despairing  longing,  of  unutter- 
able, unsatisfied  passion,  which  struck  along  every  shud 
'  dering  ners^e  until  it  reached  the  deepest  cell  of  the  heart 
"  No,  this  is  not  to  be  borne  any  longer,"  said  my  friend, 
echoing  my  own  feeling.  "  Away ! "  said  Jean  Paul  to 
Music;  "thou  speakest  of  that  which  I  cannot  have,  yel 
the  desire  of  ^  hich  consumes  my  life !  '* 
At  liebenstein  we  saw  the  little  grotto,  drank  the  dis 


136  AT   nOSIE   AND  ABBOAD. 

agreeable  water,  and  then  continued  our  journey  througl 
the  valleys  on  the  southern  slope  of  the  Thflriugian  Moun 
tains.  At  dusk  we  reached  the  inn  on  the  Inselsberg,  one 
of  the  highest  summits,  3,000  feet  above  the  sea.  There, 
on  a  dear  day,  you  stand  "  ringed  with  the  azure  world." 
The  view  reaches  fi-om  the  Brooken,  seventy  miles  in  the 
North,  to  the  tops  of  the  Franconian  mountains.  Friends 
from  Gotha  had  come  to  meet  us,  and  we  passed  the  even- 
ing comfortably  beside  a  cheerful  fire.  In  the  morning  we 
walked  down  the  sunny  side  of  the  mountain  to  Friedrichs- 
roda,  a  charming  village,  which  in  summer  is  a  fevorite 
Tesort  of  the  Berliners.  In  the  street  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  Wilhelm,  one  of  the  Brothers  Grimm,  the  great  lexico- 
graphers of  Germany. 

In  the  afternoon,  we  continued  our  journey  in  a  more 
luxurious  style,  in  my  friend's  carriage.  Following  the 
green  Alpine  dell  behind  Friedrichsroda,  we  mounted  to 
the  summit  ridge  of  the  moimtains,  along  which  runs  an 
ancient  road,  called  the  Rennstieg,  traversing  their  whole 
extent,  from  Eisenach  down  to  the  borders  of  Franconia 
At  the  top,  on  the  edge  of  the  fir  forest,  stands  a  beer- 
tavern,  with  this  enticiug  sign  : 

"I  am  the  landlord  of  the  Wolf; 
Te  travellers,  come  to  me; 
For  you,  the  landlord  ia  no  wolf— 
A  little  lamb  is  he  1 " 

"Ho I  thou  lambkin!  thou  wolf  in  sheep's  clothmgl 
bring  us  two  seidls  of  beer  1 "  cried  out  my  friend.  "  Here, 
you  lions  in  asses'  hides,  or  asses  in  lions'  hides — which 


A   WALK   THROtTGH    THE   THURINaiAN   FOREST.  131 

Is  it  ?  " — answered  the  landlord,  as  he  brought  the  foaming 
glasses.  I  warrant  the  Berlin  cockneys,  who  manage  to 
elimb  hither  in  summer  (with  many  exclamations  of  "  Ach, 
Jott ! ")  get  as  good  wit  as  they  give,  and  a  little  better. 

Rain  was  brewing,  an  1  the  raw  clouds  now  and  then  tore 
heir  skirts  in  the  tops  of  the  firs  as  we  drove  along  the 
lennstieg.  Meadows,  that  widened  as  they  descended, 
shone  with  a  gleam  that  counterfeited  sunshine,  between 
the  dark  shores  of  the  forest.  This  is  the  characteristic 
charm  of  the  Thttringian  Mountains — ^the  rare  and  incom- 
parable beauty  which  distinguishes  this  region  above  all 
other  portions  of  Germany — its  meadows  of  perfect  eme- 
rald, never  barren  of  blossoms,  framed  in  dark,  magnifi- 
cent woods,  or  overhung  with  sheer  avails  of  rock.  It  is 
a  character  of  landscape  which  only  the  German  language 
can  properly  describe.  We  have  no  such  superb  words 
in  English  as  Waldlust  and  Wcddeinsamkeit. 

Our  destination  for  the  night  was  the  SchmUcke,  a  little 
inn  kept  by  an  original  character  named  Father  Joel,  and 
the  highest  inhabited  dwelling  in  the  Thtlringian  Forest. 
Far  and  wide  through  Saxe-Coburg  and  the  neighboring 
Duchies  every  one  knew  Father  Joel,  and  many  of  his  witty 
sayings  will  remain  in  circulation  for  a  generation  to  come. 
We  found  the  old  man  rather  ill  and  broken:  he  died 
in  the  following  year.  "  How  goes  it,  Father  Joel  ? " 
asked  my  friend.  "  Ah,"  he  replied,  "  badly,  badly ;  I  have 
ao  appetite.  I  can  eat  nothing  but  partridges,  and  not 
more  than  three  of  them."  No  one  could  prepare  veni- 
son, trout,  pheasants,  hares,  or  cofiee,  like  Joel's  wife,  and 
the  wine-cellar  had  its  treasures,  no   to  be  enjoyed  by  ever j 


138  AT  nOHE  AND   ABROAD. 

chance  visitor.  My  fiiend  was.  the  bearer  of  a  mes&age 
from  some  of  the  members  of  the  Ministerial  Cabinet,  that 
they  would  dine  at  the  SchmUcke  on  the  morrow ;  but  he 
was  wise  enough  not  to  mention  it  until  our  own  supper  had 
been  secured.  We  certainly  should  otherwise  have  lost 
that  marvellous  haunch  of  venison,  which  still  lingers  in 
my  memory  as  the  realization  of  an  ideal  to  be  enjoyed 
only  once  in  a  lifetime. 

Father  Joel's  album  was  a  curiosity.  Poets  had  written 
impromptus  for  him,  artists  sketched  himself  and  his  bounti- 
ful table,  composers  scored  down  hunting-songs  or  pathetic 
farewells,  and  philosophers  and  lawgivers  perpetrated  stiff 
puns  in  his  praise.  I  added  after  my  name,  as  I  had  done 
at  the  Inselsberg,  "  on  the  way  from  Central  Africa  to 
Japan^''  which  was  literally  true,  and  gave  my  autograph 
an  especial  value  in  the  eyes  of  the  old  man.  "Father 
Joel,"  said  my  friend,  "have  you  said  any  funny  things 
lately  ?"  "  Ah !  that  is  past,"  s^d  he,  sadly ;  "  I  am  done 
with  my  fun,  and  nothing  to  show  for  it.  You  remember 
what  I  said  to  the  old  Duke  ?"  "  What  was  that  ?"  I  asked. 
"  Well,  the  old  Highness  was  here  once — a  good-humored 
man  he  was — and,  during  dinner,  he  pestered  me  with: 
'  Jo§l,  say  a  funny  thing — say  a  funny  thing !'  At  last,  I 
stopped  in  the  door,  as  I  was  going  out,  and  said :  'Excuse 
me.  Highness;  I'm  afraid  to  do  it.'  'Why  afraid?'  he 
asked.  '  For  fear  your  Highness  would  give  me  the  cross 
of  the  Ernestine  Order ! '  said  I,  shutting  the  door  behind 
me."  The  Duke  had  been  so  lavish  in  bestowing  the  order, 
that  it  had  oorae  to  be  a  cheap  honor ;  and  Father  Joel'i 
remark  was  a  home-thrust.    It  is  said  that  his  Highness  took 


A   WALK  THBOUGH   THE  THlJEIJS  SIAN   FOREST.         139 

the  Lint,  and  profited  by  it.  Other  sovereigns  might  dc 
the  same  thing.  It  is  a  common  saying,  in  Middle  Ger- 
many: "In  Prussia  there  are  two  things  you  cannot  escape 
— death  and  the  Order  of  the  Red  Eagle." 

Bidding  fai-ewell  to  Father  Joel — a  last  one  for  me — in 
the  morning,  we  spent  the  day  in  visiting  Elgersburg  and 
llraenau,  with  their  water-cure  and  pine-needle-bathing 
establishments,  and,  late  in  the  aftenioon,  reached  Schwai'z- 
burg,  on  the  Saale — one  of  the  seats  of  the  princely  line  of 
Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt.  The  town  is  built  on  a  low  cape 
of  the  mountains,  projecting  into  a  deep,  romantic  valley. 
Hundi'eds  of  deer  were  feeding  on  the  castle  meadows,  and 
from  the  forests  rising  beyond  sounded  the  trumpet-call 
of  the  stag.  A  short  distance  further  up  the  valley  is 
Rudolstadt — classic  with  the  memories  of  Goethe,  Herder, 
Schiller,  and  Jean  Paul 

"We  had  now  reached  the  termination  of  the  range  known 
as  the  Th^ingian  Forest,  but  our  return  journey  to  Gotha, 
the  next  day,  embraced  landscapes  of  equal  beauty  to  those 
we  had  enjoyed.  We  descended  the  Saale  to  an  open  valley, 
called,  on  account  of  its  richness  and  loveliness,  the  Chryso- 
prase,  thence  crossed  the  base  of  the  mountains  westward 
to  Paulinzelle,  where  there  is  a  ruined  cloister  of  the  eleventh 
century  in  admirable  preservation,  and  sped  rapidly 
through  rain  and  darkness  over  the  rolling  plain  to  Gotha, 
which  we  reached  late  at  night.  This  was  my  first  but  not 
my  last  trip  over  and  among  those  dear  and  glorious  hillfl. 


XIII. 

MY   SUPERNATURAL   EXPERIENCES. 


Lbt  sceptical,  hard,  matter-of-fact  men  talk  as  they  may, 
there  is  a  lingering  belief  in  the  possibility  of  occasiona. 
communication  between  the  natural  and  the  supernatural — 
the  visible  and  the  invisible  world — ^inherent  in  human 
nature.  There  are  not  many  persons  whose  lives  do  not 
contain  at  least  some  few  occurrences,  which  are  incapable 
of  being  satisfactorily  explained  by  any  known  laws — 
remarkable  presentiments,  coincidences,  and  sometimes  ap- 
pantions,  even,  which  seem  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of 
accident  or  chance,  and  overcome  us  with  a  special  wonder. 
The  error,  however,  is  generally  on  the  side  of  credulity 
Men  are  reluctant  to  accept  any  rational  interpretation  of 
such  things,  since  the  veil  which  they  believe  to  have  beer 
agitated,  if  not  lifted,  is  thereby  rendered  as  still  and  im- 
penetrable as  before.  The  remarkable  prevalence  of 
•Spiritualism,"   in  spite  of  its  disgusting  puerilities,  can 


ICT   SUPICRNATUBAL  BXPBBIENCES.  14] 

only  be  accounted  for  in  this  way.  A  sort  of  mental  epilepsy 
— ^infectious,  as  well  as  congenital — ^receives  the  powerful 
aid  of  personal  egotism ;  and  the  result  is  a  tendency  to 
reject  all  explanations  which  discredit  the  supernatural 
theory.  When  the  nature  of  Mind,  and  the  laws  which 
govern  it,  are  as  well  understood  as  those  of  Matter,  much 
that  is  now  wrapped  in  mystery  will  be  clear  and  plain. 

I  propose,  simply,  to  narrate  a  few  incidents  which  lie 
outside  the  range  of  ordinary  experience,  attaching  to  each 
one  my  own  interpretation.  Were  facts  of  this  character 
more  generally  noted,  we  might  the  more  readily  proceed 
to  the  deduction  of  some  general  law ;  but  if  the  proportion 
of  men  who  really  think  for  themselves  is  small,  how  much 
smaller  is  the  nimiber  who  are  capable  of  stud)dng,  with 
introverted  vision,  the  operations  of  their  own  minds!  1 
have  found  but  one  man,  as  yet, who  ascertained,  by  self-ex- 
periment, that  the  ecstatic  condition  of  the  so-called  "  spiri- 
tual mediums"  may  be  gradually  developed  and  produced 
at  will.  That  lazy  state  of  dreamy  reverie,  which  is  the 
favorite  dissipation  of  certain  minds,  is  but  a  milder  form 
of  the  same  disease. 

The  first  instance  I  shall  relate  cannot  strictly  be  called 
supernatural,  since — even  if  true — ^it  is,  at  the  best,  but  a 
romantic  adventure.  But,  I  think,  it  illustrates  the  possi- 
bility of  two  simultaneous  conditions  of  the  mind — one 
awake,  through  the  medium  of  the  senses ;  the  other  still 
wandering  among  the  phantasms  of  sleep.  (Would  a  mo- 
mentary difference  in  the  action  of  the  two  lobes  of  tht 
brain  explain  this  ?)     But  to  the  story  : 

In  December,  1845,  I  was  travelling  on  foot  from  Flo 


142  Al   HOME  AMD   ABBOAO. 

rence  to  Rome.  Chill  rain-storms  swept  the  Apemiines.  1 
plodded  wearily  along,  wet  to  the  skin,  and  occasionally 
stopping  for  shelter  at  the  rude  inns  frequented  by  the 
peasants.  I  think  it  was  the  fourth  day  of  my  journey, 
when  I  was  obliged,  by  the  violence  of  the  storm,  to  take 
shelter  in  a  lonely  little  tavern,  somewhere  between  Arezzo 
and  the  Lake  of  Thrasymene.  We  (I  had  one  companion ) 
were  kindly  received,  and  placed  in  opposite  corners  of  the 
great,  open  fire-place,  to  dry  our  clothes  by  a  bright  blaze  of 
brushwood.  The  family  consisted  of  an  old  woman,  a 
beautiflil  girl  of  twenty,  and  three  children.  There  were 
also  two  men,  of  middle  age ;  but  it  was  evident,  from  the 
conversation,  that  they  had  come  down  from  the  neighbor- 
ing mountains.  As  the  evening  closed  in,  and  a  dreary 
rain  beat  against  the  windows,  they  drew  nearer  the  fire ; 
and  the  conversation  became  so  animated  that  I  could,  with 
difficulty,  catch  the  meaning  of  their  words.  While  we 
were  taking  our  scanty  supper  of  eggs,  raaccaroni,  and 
wine,  at  a  table  in  the  farther  corner  of  the  kitchen,  I  re- 
marked that  their  conversation  was  carried  on  in  whispera, 
of  which  I  could  only  detect  the  words  "  robbers"  and  "to- 
night" frequently  repeated. 

I  paid  no  particular  attention  to  this  circumstance,  but 

conversed  with  the  family  for  an  hour  or  two,  as  far  as  my 

limited  Italian  would  go.    The  girl  had  one  of  those  sweet 

^  Madonna  faces — only  with  an  expression  of  more  passion 

,(ind  less  purity — which  are  not  unusual  in  Italy.    Her  man- 

Pgjj^  towards  us  was  marked  by  a  cheerful  friendliness;  but 

« gpiri^ien  were  silent  and  uncommunicative.     We  went  early 

\  being  sorely  iatigued.    Thei«  was  but  cne  bed 


MY   SUPERNATUEAL   EXPERTENCES.  148 

room — a  large  loft  over  the  kitchen — in  which  were  1  w  j  or 
three  coarse  couches.  One  of  these  was  given  to  us  twjdn 
— ^the  old  woman  occupying  another,  and  the  men  a  ttird. 
Ours  stood  alone  in  one  end  of  the  loft,  opposite  the  lind' 
ing — which  was  covered  by  a  hatch — and  I  took  the  outer 
iide  of  the  bed,  with  my  face  towards  the  staircase.  Over 
the  landing  was  a  single  window,  in  the  gable  end  of  the 
hut,  admitting  a  little  light  from  the  sky. 

I  soon  fell  into  a  sound  sleep,  which  was  not  broken  when 
the  old  woman  and  the  two  men  crept  to  their  beds.  My 
companion,  with  his  face  to  the  wall,  was  as  insensibl  i  as  a 
log.  Towards  midnight,  however,  I  suddenly  awoke.  The 
clouds  were  thinner,  and  the  moon,  behind  them,  shed 
light  enough  to  enable  me  to  distinguish,  though  dimly,  the 
objects  in  the  room.  The  sleepers  all  breathed  heavily  and 
regularly ;  and  I  was  about  giving  myself  up  to  slumbei 
again,  when  I  heard  voices  in  the  kitchen  below.  Presently 
the  door  leading  to  the  staircase  was  opened,  and  cautious 
feet  commenced  ascending  the  steps.  As  the  hatch  was 
lifted,  and  the  forms  appeared,  drawn  in  black  outline 
against  the  window,  I  recognised  the  young  girl,  accompa- 
nied by  a  man  whom  I  had  not  seen  before.  There  was  a 
moment's  pause,  while  the  latter  appeared  to  be  looking 
around  the  loft,  and  then  I  heard  the  words :  "  Which  are 
they?"  "There!"  said  the  girl,  in  a  low  tone;  '*but  are 
they  really  coming?"  A  whispered  consultation  ensued, 
of  which  I  could  only  distinguish  that  her  tones  had  a 
character  of  persuasion  or  entreaty.  At  last  the  man  said: 
" They  will  be  here  soon ;  but  I  will  leare  tl" e  sign,"  or 
lomethiug  to  the  same  efTect — for  I  cannot  remember  his 


144  At  HOUB  AND  ABROAD. 

precipe  words.  He  then  approached  our  bed  on  tip-toe.  I 
closed  my  eyes,  and  counterfeited  sleep ;  but  I  felt  the  light 
movement  of  a  hand  about  the' head  of  the  bed — and  once 
the  tips  of  fingers  touched  my  neck.  The  two  then  with- 
drew noiselessly  to  the  kitchen. 

I  felt  no  fear — but  an  intense  curiosity  to  know  the 
meaning  of  this.  It  was  too  dark  to  discover  what  was 
the  sign  referred  to ;  and  in  half  an  hour  I  had  forgotten  all 
about  it,  for  I  was  sound  asleep.  After  two  hours,  as  it 
seemed  to  me,  I  was  a  second  time  awakened  by  footsteps 
on  the  stairs.  The  first  mysterious  visit  immediately  recur- 
red to  my  mind,  and  I  waited,  in  great  anxiety,  for  further 
developments.  The  hatch  was  raised,  as  before ;  but  this 
time  there  were  two  men,  neither  of  whom  appeared  to  be 
the  former  visitor.  One  of  them  carried  a  small  lantern, 
wrapped  in  a  handkerchief,  so  as  almost  completely  to  muf- 
fle the  light.  When  they  turned  towards  the  bed,  I  closed 
my  eyes,  and  imitated  the  respiration  of  sleep,  lest  I  should 
be  caught  watching.  I  believe,  however,  that  my  heart 
beat  a  little  faster  than  usual.  I  heard  stealthy  footsteps, 
inaudible  whispers,  and  then  a  low  exclamation :  '•'-Here  is 
the  sign  I "  The  two  came  to  the  head  of  my  bed,  and 
apparently  made  a  cautious  examination  ;  a  few  more 
whispers  followed,  and  they  retreated  down  stairs.  After 
they  were  gone,  I  opened  my  eyes,  and  asked  myself:  — "Is 
all  this  real  ?"  A  few  muffled  sounds  came  up  from  the 
kitchen,  and  then  all  was  still.  There  was  the  window, 
with  its  square  of  dim,  stormy  sky ;  there  were  the  beds, 
barely  visible  in  the  gloom  ;  and  my  companion  still  snored, 
with  his  face  to  the  wall.    I  cogitated  long  upon  this  singu 


MY     SUPERNATURAL     EXPERIENCES.  145 

lar  adventure ;  but  the  knowledge  that  if  there  had  really 
been  any  danger  to  our  lives  or  scanty  property,  it  was  now 
over,  quieted  my  apprehensions — and  I  finally  slept  again. 

When  we  arose  at  daybreak,  according  to  our  custom,  I 
naturally  examined  the  bed  for  some  trace  of  the  visit;  but 
in  the  indistinct  light  I  detected  nothing.  The  girl  was  as 
calm  and  cheerful  as  ever;  and  though  I  watched  her 
sharply,  I  found  in  her  manner  no  justification  of  my 
suspicions.  We  paid  our  light  bill,  and  took  to  the  road 
again,  accompanied  by  friendly  "  Imon  viaggios'**  from  all. 
Not  till  then  did  I  relate  to  my  companion  the  incidents  of 
the  night.  He  had  travelled  on  the  "  through  train"  of 
Sleep,  without  ehange  of  cars,  and,  of  course,  had  seen  and 
heard  nothing.  The  circumstances  were  so  curious  and 
inexplicable,  as  to  shake  a  little  my  own  faith  in  their  real- 
ity. The  impression  was  that  of  actual  fact — every  feature 
distinct  and  tangible.  The  figures,  the  voices,  the  conver- 
sation in  Italian — which  I  then  knew  but  imperfectly — were 
real;  and  yet  the  whole  occurrence  was  as  improbable  as 
the  wildest  adventure  of  a  dream. 

I  am  now  inclined  to  believe  that  the  whole  thing  wm 
one  of  those  rare  pranks  which  the  mind  sometimes  plays 
on  that  border  realm  between  sleeping  and  waking,  when  a 
second  of  time  frequently  contains  the  impressions  of  years: 
in  other  words,  that  I  was  really  awake  with  the  eyes,  and 
saw  the  lofl  in  which  I  lay ;  while  the  mind,  excited  by  the 
fragmentary  words  we  had  heard  at  supper,  created  the 
rest.  In  this  case,  the  only  thing  remarkable  about  the 
story  would  be  the  coherence  between  the  two  visits ;  but 
thia  coherence,  again,  would  be  less  singrular  in  the  intennfr 


146  AT  HOMS  AND  ABBOAD. 

diate  state  referred  to,  than  in  the  dreams  of  a  perfect 
deep.  It  is  possible  that  the  incident  was  real:  many 
persons  would  have  accepted  it  as  being  so  ;  but  I  did  not 
feel  sure  enough  of  its  reality  to  include  it  in  my  narrative 
of  travel.  It  is  certainly  more  valuable  as  an  illustration  of 
the  singuLar  force  and  vividness  which  mental  impression* 
attain,  when  the  senses  are  in  conscious  operation,  than  a* 
a  piece  of  actual  experience. 

An  undoubted  instance  of  the  same  kind  happened  to 
me,  while  in  California,  in  November,  1849.  Starting  from 
Sacramento,  on  horseback,  for  a  journey  to  the  Mokelumno 
and  the  American  Fork,  I  was  detained  three  days  at  a 
lonely  ranche  near  the  Cosumne  River,  by  a  violent  storm 
of  rain.  On  the  fourth  morning,  the  clouds  broke  away. 
I  saddled,  swam  the  river,  and  took  a  faint  trail  leading 
over  the  plains,  intending  to  make  Hick's  Ranche,  twenty- 
four  miles  distant,  among  the  foot-hills  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada.  Very  soon,  however,  I  lost  the  trail,  which  had 
been  completely  washed  out  by  the  rain.  Riding  at  hazard 
towards  the  mountains,  a  sudden  blind  instinct — ^which  I 
never  felt  before,  and  cannot  intelligibly  describe — told  me 
to  strike  a  bee-line  in  a  ceitain  direction.  I  thereupon  took 
my  bearings  by  the  distant  snowy  peaks,  and  rode  slowly 
on,  my  mare  sinking  to  her  knees  at  every  step  in  the  loose, 
saturated  soil.  It  was  during  this  ride  that  I  came  upon 
four  grizzly  bears,  eating  acorns  in  a  little  grove  of  oaks. 
Our  interview  was  like  that  of  two  Englishmen  in  the 
desert :  a  momentary  pause — a  long  stare— -and  each  humei 
to  get  out  of  sight  of  the  other.  To  be  candid,  I  did  not 
deare  an  introduction 


MY   SUPERNATUEAL   BXPEBIEKCES.  141 

I  made  such  slow  progress,  that  night  came  on  as  I  was 
entering  the  foot-hills.  I  had  kept  my  bee-hne  faithfully  all 
day,  and  when  I  halted  at  dusk,  in  a  little  wooded  dell, 
blazed  two  trees,  so  that  I  might  resume  the  same  direction 
in  the  morning.  Giving  my  mare  the  length  of  her  lasso, 
that  she  might  crop  the  shrubs — as  there  was  no  grass  tc 
be  had — I  built  up  a  large  bonfire  of  dead  limbs,  and  sat 
down  beside  it  on  a  fallen  tree.  There  was  no  moon,  but 
the  stars  twinkled  clearly  through  the  bare  branches  over- 
head. I  had  depended  on  reaching  the  ranche,  and  was 
therefore  without  provisions.  My  supper  consisted  of  a 
cigar  and  some  rain-water,  which  had  gathered  in  a  hoUow 
What  a  comfort  there  is  in  a  fire !  I  might  give  a  thrilling 
picture  of  my  sensations — lost,  alone,  and  famishing — which 
my  pecunious  reader  would  shudder  at,  behind  his  lobster- 
salad.  But  it  would  not  be  true.  I  felt  as  cozy  and  com- 
fortable as  if  before  my  own  wide  fire-place  in  the  oaken 
chamber,  and  the  starry  silence  of  the  night  filled  my  heart 
with  a  soothing  sense  of  happiness  and  peace. 

Taking  the  saddle  for  a  pillow,  I  wrapped  myself  in  my 
blanket,  and  lay  down,  with  my  back  to  the  field  and  my 
feet  to  the  fire.  But  my  slumbers  were  short  and  fitful. 
The  neighborhood  was  famous  for  bears,  and  I  was  appre- 
hensive that  my  mare  would  take  fright,  get  loose,  and 
forsake  me.  So  I  lay  awake  half  an  hour  at  a  time,  watch- 
ins:  the  culmination  of  the  stars  on  the  meridian  line  of  a 
dender  twig  over  my  head.  It  was,  perhaps,  an  hour  past 
midnight,  when,  as  I  thus  lay  with  open  eyes,  gazing  into 
the  eternal  beauty  of  Night,  I  became  conscious  of  a  deep, 
murmuring  sound,  like  thai  of  a  rising  wind.    I  looked  at 


148  AT  HOMB  Ain>   ABBOAO. 

the  trees ;  every  branch  was  uDmoved — ^yet  the  sound 
increased,  until  the  air  of  the  lonely  dell  seemed  to  vibrate 
with  its  burden.  A  strange  feeling  of  awe  and  expectancy 
took  possession  of  me.  Not  a  dead  leaf  stirred  on  the 
boughs ;  whUe  the  mighty  sound — a  solemn  choral,  sung  by 
en  thousand  voices — swept  down  from  the  hills,  and  rolled 
away  like  retreating  thunder  over  the  plain.  It  was  no 
longer  the  roar  of  the  wind.  As  in  the  wandering  prelude 
of  an  organ  melody,  note  trod  upon  note  with  slow,  majes- 
tic footsteps,  until  they  gathered  to  a  theme,  and  then  came 
the  words,  simultaneously  chanted  by  an  immeasurable 
host : — "  Vivant  terrestrim .'"  The  air  was  filled  with  the 
tremendous  sound,  which  seemed  to  sweep  near  the  surface 
of  the  earth,  in  powerful  waves,  without  echo  or  reverbe- 
ration. 

Suddenly,  far  overhead,  in  the  depths  of  the  sky,  rang  a 
single,  clear,  piercing  voice,  of  unnatural  sweetness.  Be- 
yond the  reach  of  human  organs,  or  any  earthly  instrument, 
its  keen  dUo  pierced  the  firmament  like  a  straight  white 
line  of  electric  fire.  As  it  shot  downwards,  gathering  in 
force,  the  vast  terrestrial  chorus  gradually  dispersed  into 
silence,  and  only  that  one  unearthly  sound  remained.  It 
vibrated  slowly  into  the  fragment  of  a  melody,  imlike  any 
which  had  ever  reached  my  ears — a  long,  undulating  cry  of 
victory  and  of  joy ;  while  the  words  "  Vivat  ccdutn  /"  were 
repeated  more  and  more  faintly,  as  the  voice  slowly  with- 
drew, like  a  fading  beam  of  sunset,  into  the  abysses  of  the 
stars.    Then  all  was  silent  in  the  dell,  as  before. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  impression  produced  by 
this  wonderful  visitation.     I  slept  no  more  that  night ;  and 


inr  SUPERNArUEAL  EXPERIENCES.  149 

for  days  afterwards,  the  piercing  sweetness  of  that  skyey 
voice  rang  through  my  brain.  Walking  in  Broadway; 
years  later,  the  memory  of  it  has  flashed  across  my  mind, 
as  sharp  and  sudden  as  a  streak  of  lightning ;  and  if  it  now 
returns  more  faintly  and  less  frequently  than  before,  it« 
weud  and  supernatural  character  remains  the  same.  Yet, 
to  my  mind,  the  explanation  is  very  simple.  I  was  imdeni- 
ably  awake  at  the  time,  and  could  recall  neither  fact,  reflec- 
tion, nor  fancy  of  a  natme  to  suggest  the  sounds ;  hut  I 
was  fatigued,  famished,  alone  in  the  wilderness,  awed  by  the 
solemnity  and  silence  of  the  night — perhaps  even  more  than 
I  suspected — and  my  excited  imagination,  acting  involunta- 
rily and  unconsciously  to  myself,  produced  the  illusion.  I 
have  often  observed  that  complete  repose  of  the  body,  after 
great  fatigue,  is  accompanied — when  continued  to  a  certain 
time — with  a  corresponding  repose  of  volition,  a  passive 
condition  of  the  mind,  highly  favorable  to  the  independent 
action  of  the  imagination.  Then,  if  ever,  are  we  in  a  fit 
state  to  hear 

"  The  airy  tongues  that  syllable  men's  names 
On  sands,  and  shores,  and  desert  wildemessea" 

The  dream  is  none  the  less  a  wonder.  How  does  one 
faculty  of  the  brain  act,  so  far  beyond  our  conscious  know- 
ledge, as  to  astound  us  with  the  most  unexpected  images  f 
Why  should  it  speak  in  the  Latin  tongue?  How  did  it 
compose  music — which  woiild  be  as  impossible  for  me  aa 
to  write  a  Sanscrit  poem  ? 

There  is  another  interesting  fact  connected  with  this 
adventure.     When   daybreak   came,  I  saddled  my  mare; 


160  AT  HOMB  AND  ABROAD. 

and,  w^ith  the  aid  of  the  blazed  trees,  resumed  the  bee-lin« 
of  the  previous  day.  It  was  no  easy  matter  to  follow  it, 
up  and  down  the  precipitous  hills ;  but  I  had  not  proceeded 
an  hour  before  my  course  was  blocked  by  the  very  ranche 
to  which  I  was  bound !  A  blind  animal  instinct  had  guided 
me  for  twenty  miles,  over  hill  and  plain,  and  hit  the  target 
exactly  in  the  centre. 

One  more  incident,  of  a  more  decided  character,  closes 
the  list  of  my  experiences.  During  my  last  visit  to  Lond'»n, 
I  accepted  an  invitation  to  pass  two  or  three  days  with  & 
banker,  who  occupies  a  fine  estate  on  the  Thames,  near 
Windsor.  The  house — which  was  a  palace  in  its  extent  and 
the  character  of  its  appointments — was  built  by  a  former 
Earl  of  T ,  who  ruined  himself  in  erecting  it.  Gar- 
dens, graperies,  and  a  noble  park,  stretching  along  thie  bank 
of  the  Thames,  completed  the  attractions  of  one  of  the  love- 
liest places  in  England.  When  the  hour  for  rest  arrived,  1 
was  conducted  to  a  chamber  looking  towards  the  towered 
entrance,  and  a  group  of  magnificent  cedars  of  Lebanon, 
Oft  the  lawn.  The  night  was  misty  and  moonless — so  that, 
after  I  had  extinguished  the  candle,  the  room  remained  in 
almost  complete  dai'kness. 

It  was  midnight  when  I  went  to  bed ;  and  I  had  slept,  1 
suppose,  until  somewhere  between  two  and  three,  when  I 
suddenly  awoke,  and  to  ray  surprise,  found  that  my  candle 
was  still  burning.  My  first  idea  was,  that  I  had  forgotten 
to  extinguish  it.  Closing  ray  eyes,  while  revolving  this 
question  in  my  mind,  I  opened  them  again  upon  a  rocm 
darkened  as  before.  Through  the  uncurtained  window,  1 
saw  the  dim  tops  of  the  cedars  rising  against  the  mifitj 


MT    SUFBliNATUBAL   SZPSSLBNCBS.  151 

November  sky.  At  the  same  instant,  I  detected  a  slight 
noise  at  the  door — as  if  some  one  was  cautiously  trying  to 
enter.  But  as  the  key  was  turned,  the  attempt  was  in  vain ; 
and  I  presently  heard  the  same  noise  at  the  door  of  the 
adjoining  dressing-room.  Listening  intently,  I  became 
aware  of  a  slight  creak  at  the  door  of  communication 
between  the  two  rooms.  This  was  followed,  not  by  a  foot- 
step, but  by  the  hushed,  rustling  sound  of  a  long  dress 
trailing  upon  the  floor.  The  sound  marched  slowly  across 
the  room,  and  approached  the  bedside,  where  it  stopped. 
Then  the  gentlest  touch — as,  indeed,  of  siry  fingers — drew 
the  bed-clothes  straight,  and  tucked  the  ends  of  the  cover- 
lids and  sheets  into  the  space  between  the  mattress  and 
bedstead.  Meanwhile,  I  lay  perfectly  still,  in  a  passive 
state  of  surprise  and  wonder. 

When,  however,  the  gentle  ministry  ceased,  and  I  again 
caught  the  rustle  of  the  trailing  dress  on  the  carpet,  I  sprang 
bolt  upright  in  bed,  and  peered  into  the  gloom,  in  hope  of 
seeing  the  figure.  But  the  room  was  a  gulf  of  darkness, 
except  the  bit  of  window  not  covered  by  the  cedars ;  and 
by  this  time  the  rustle  had  reached  the  dressing-room  door. 
In  a  few  seconds  more,  it  had  passed  away  completely ;  and, 
after  exhausting  myself  in  speculations  as  to  the  character 
of  the  visit,  I  slept.  On  mentioning  the  incident  at  break- 
fast, I  found  that  none  of  the  guests  had  been  disturbed; 
nor  could  I  learn  that  anything  of  the  kind  had  previously 
happened  in  the  house,  although  one  gentleman  affirmed 
that  the  old  mansion,  which  was  pulled  down  by  Lord 

T before  building  the  present  one,  had  the  repata 

Uon  of  being  haunted. 


152  AT  HOJCB  AKD  ABBOAD. 

Two  diflferent  explanations  occurred  to  me.  Either  the 
imaginative  part  of  the  brain  was  dreaming,  while  the 
senses  were  awake — as  in  the  former  cases — or  the  incident 
was  real,  and  the  mysterious  visitor  was  a  somnambulist — 
possibly  a  housekeeper  or  a  chambermaid,  unconsciously 
repeating  her  rounds  to  see  that  everything  was  in  order. 
The  vision  of  the  lighted  candle  must  have  been  an  illusion 
— an  instantaneous  dream — suggested  by  that  electric  spark 
of  light  which  is  sometimes  struck  from  the  eyes  on  open" 
ing  them  suddenly. 

In  all  these  experiences,  notwithstanding  the  liveliness 
and  permanence  of  the  impression  produced  on  my  mind, 
I  am  fully  satisfied  that  there  was  nothing  whatever  of  a 
supernatural  character.  So  long  as  the  visible  world,  and 
the  constitution  of  our  mortal  nature,  furnishes  us  with  a 
sufficient  explanation  of  such  phenomena,  why  should  we 
l&y  hold  upon  the  invisible  and  the  immortal  ? 


XIV. 

MORE   OF   THE   SUPERNATURAL. 


Therb  is  a  class  of  mental  phenomena,  to  which  I  have  not 
yet  alluded,  of  a  character  much  more  nearly  allied  to  the 
supernatural  than  those  described  in  the  last  chapter.  In 
certain  conditions  of  the  body,  the  mind  seems  to  become 
possessed  of  a  new  and  unsuspected  power,  independent  of 
volition — elusive  and  unmanageable  as  the  plot  of  a  dream 
to  which  we  fain  would  give  an  agreeable  solution,  yet  are 
helplessly  carried  on  through  a  series  of  accumulated  diffi- 
culties. Perhaps  the  term  "natural  clairvoyance"  will 
best  describe  this  power ;  since  the  eye  of  the  mind  looks 
straight  through  all  material  hindrances,  and  not  only 
perceives  that  which  is  beyond  the  horizon  of  the  bodily 
eye,  but  foresees  what  has  not  yet  come  to  pass. 

The  credulous  will,  no  doubt,  reject  the  rational  inter 
pretation  I  have  given  to  the  experiences  already  described ; 
and  the  sceptical,  I  presume,  will  be  as  ready  to  deny  the 


154  AT  HOMB  AlTD  ABROAD. 

existence  of  any  such  Acuity  as  I  now  assume.  Yet  thil 
faculty  exists — abnormal,  perhaps,  yet  not  supernatural — ^I 
am  fully  convinced.  Many  persons  live  out  their  allotte«' 
term  of  years,  without  ever  experiencing  its  operation; 
others  are  so  rarely  and  so  dimly  conscious  of  it,  that  they 
class  it  among  the  ordinary  delusions  produced  by  fear, 
anxiety,  or  excitement  of  any  kind ;  while  a  few  receive 
such  distinct  and  palpable  evidences,  that  they  are  forced  to 
admit  the  insuflBciency  of  all  other  explanations.  I  see  no 
difficulty  in  recognising  this  half-acknowledged  faculty 
When  we  understand  the  awful  capacity  of  the  mind  to 
receive  impressions — every  word  of  the  thousands  we  hear 
during  the  day,  every  form  of  the  million  objects  we 
behold,  though  forgotten  as  soon  as  heard  and  seen,  being 
indelibly  stamped  upon  tablets  which  are  stored  away  in 
some  chamber  of  the  brain,  whereto  we  have  no  key — 
when  we  ponder  upon  this  fact,  with  its  infinite  suggestions, 
we  find  it  easy  to  believe  that  those  operations  of  the  mind 
of  which  we  are  conscious^  are  far  from  being  the  full 
measure  of  its  powers. 

But  an  ounce  of  illustration  is  better  than  a  pound  of 
theory.  Let  me  relate  a  few  instances,  taken  from  my  own 
personal  experience,  and  that  of  some  of  my  friends.  The 
bee-like  instinct  of  direction,  referred  to  in  the  previou 
chapter,  is  not  unusual  among  men  accustomed  to  the  wild 
life  of  the  woods  and  mountains.  More  than  one  of  my 
Rocky-Mountain  acquaintances  possess  it  in  an  eminent 
degree.  A  noted  explorer,  whose  blanket "  I  have  often 
shared  as  we  slept  under  the  stars,  assured  me  that  frequent- 
y,  while  threading  the  interlocking  folds  of  a  mountain 


HOBB   OF  THE  StJPERNATtJEAL.  IM 

pass,  he  has  had  a  sudden  vision  of  the  landscape  beyond, 
even  to  its  minutest  details.  The  same  thing  once  occurred 
to  me  in  Mexico,  between  Tepic  and  Guadalajara.  He  has, 
also,  after  searching  all  day  for  grass  and  water  for  his 
animals,  ii.  an  unexplored  wilderness,  been  seized  with  a 
blind  instinct,  which  led  him,  against  aU  reason,  to  the  only 
spot  where  they  were  to  be  found. 

During  a  visit  to  Boston,  four  or  five  years  ago,  I  accepted 
an  invitation  to  take  tea  with  a  distinguished  author.  A 
gentleman  who  had  often  visited  him,  offered  to  accompany 
me,  as  his  residence  was  in  a  part  of  the  city  with  which  I 
was  then  unacquainted.  We  were  walking  along  the  street, 
conversing  very  earnestly  upon  some  subject  of  mutual 
interest,  when  aU  at  once  I  was  seized  with  the  idea  that 
we  were  passing  the  author's  house.     "  Stop !"  I  said ; 

"  Mr. lives  here."     My  friend  halted,  surprised,  and 

surveyed  the  house.  "  No,"  said  he,  "  that  is  not  his  resi- 
dence ;  it  is  in  the  next  block.  But  I  thought  you  had 
never  visited  him."  "Nor  have  I,"  I  replied;  "I  never 
was  in  this  street  before,  but  I  am  positive  he  liv*»s  there.'* 
"  And  I  am  positive  he  does  not,"  my  friend  rejoined ; 
**  there  is  a  large  brass  plate  upon  his  door,  with  the  name 
upon  it ;  and,  you  see,  here  ds  no  name  whatever.  Besides, 
it  is  not  in  this  block."  "  I  will  go  further  with  you,"  was 
my  stubborn  answer  ;  "  but  we  shall  have  to  return  again.' 
The  presumption  of  his  certain  knowledge  did  not  in  the 
least  shake  my  confidence.  We  searched  the  next  block, 
but  did  not  find  the  author's  name  on  any  door.  With 
acme  difiiculty,  I  persuaded  my  friend  to  return,  and  try 
the  house  I  had  pointed  out :  it  was  the  right  one  I    I  can 


166  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAB. 

explain  this  curious  incident  in  no  other  way,  than  by  assan^ 
ing  the  existence  of  a  natural  clairvoyant  faculty  in  the 
mind. 

Of  course,  such  experiences  are  very  rare ;  and,  as  thej 
generally  occur  at  the  most  unexpected  moments,  it  is  next 
to  impossible  to  go  back,  and  ascertain  how  the  impression 
first  makes  itself  felt.  Once,  only,  have  I  been  conscious 
of  the  operation  of  the  faculty.  This  took  place  in  Racine, 
Wisconsin,  on  the  morning  of  the  1st  of  March,  1856.  My 
bed-room  at  the  hotel  was  an  inner  chamber,  lighted  only 
by  a  door  opening  into  a  private  parlor.  Consequently 
when  I  awoke  in  the  morning,  it  was  diflBicult  to  tell,  from 
the  imperfect  light  received  through  the  outer  room, 
whether  the  hour  was  early  or  late.  A  lecturer,  especially 
after  his  hundredth  performance,  is  not  inclined  to  get  up  at 
daylight ;  and  yet,  if  you  sleep  too  long,  in  many  of  the 
western  towns,  you  run  the  risk  of  losing  your  breakfast. 
I  was  lying  upon  my  back,  with  closed  eyes^  lazily  trying  to 
solve  the  question,  when,  all  at  once,  my  vision  seemed  to 
be  reversed — or  rather,  a  clearer  spiritual  vision  awoke, 
independent  of  the  physical  sense.  My  head,  the  pillow  on 
which  it  rested,  and  the  hunting-case  of  my  watch,  became 
transparent  as  air ;  and  I  saw,  distinctly,  the  hands  on  the 
dial  pointing  to  eleven  minutes  before  six.  I  can  only  com- 
pare the  sensation  to  a  flash  of  lightning  on  a  dark  nighti 
which,  for  the  thousandth  part  of  a  second,  shows  you  a 
landscape  as  bright  as  day.  I  sprang  up  instantly,  jerked 
forth  my  watch,  opened  it ;  and  there  were  the  hands, 
pointing  to  eleven  minutes  before  six — ^lacking  only  the  few 
seconds  which  had  elapsed  between  the  vision  and  its  proof 


MORE    OP    THE    SUPBKNATIIRAL.  157 

Is  this,  after  all,  any  more  singular  than  the  fact  that  a 
man  can  awaken  at  any  hour  that  he  chooses  ?  What  is 
the  spiritual  alarm-clock  which  calls  us  at  four,  though  we 
usually  sleep  until  six  ?  How  is  it  that  the  web  of  dreams 
is  broken,  the  helpless  slumber  of  the  senses  overcome,  at 
the  desired  moment,  by  the  simple  passage  of  a  thought 
through  the  mind  hours  before  ?  I  was  once,  of  necessity, 
obliged  to  cultivate  this  power,  and  brought  it,  finally,  to 
such  perfection,  that  the  profoundest  sleep  ceased  as  sud- 
denly, at  the  appointed  minute,  as  if  I  had  been  struck  on 
the  head  with  a  mallet.  Let  any  one  tell  me,  clearly  and 
satisfactorily,  how  this  is  done,  before  asking  me  to  account 
for  the  other  marvel. 

But,  in  certain  conditions,  the  mind  also  foresees.  This 
may  either  take  place  in  dreams,  or  in  those  more  vague 
and  uncertain  impressions  which  are  termed  presentiments. 
I  will  only  relate  a  single  instance,  since  it  is  useless  to 
adduce  anything  which  is  not  beyond  the  range  of  accident 
or  coincidence.  I  spent  the  winter  of  1844-6  at  Frankfort- 
on-the-Main,  living  with  Mr.  Richard  Storrs  Willis,  in  the 
family  of  a  German  merchant  there.  At  that  time  there 
was  only  a  mail  once  a  month  between  Europe  and  Ame- 
rica, and  if  we  failed  to  receive  letters  by  one  steamer,  we 
were  obliged  to  wait  four  weeks  for  the  next  chance.  One 
day  the  letters  came  as  usual  for  Mr.  Willis,  but  none  for 
me.  I  gave  up  all  hope  for  that  month,  and  went  to  bed  in 
a  state  of  great  disappointment  and  dejection ;  but  in  the 
night  I  dreamed  that  it  was-  morning,  and  I  was  dressing 
myself,  when  Mr.  Willis  burst  into  the  room  saying :  "  The 
postman  is  below — ^perhaps  he  has  letters  for  you.    Gam* 


168  AT   HOHE   AND  ABBOAD. 

Dp  into  the  dining-room,  and  you  can  see  him  from  the 
window."  We  thereupon  went  up  to  the  dining-room  on 
the  third  story,  looked  down  into  the  street,  and  there 
stood  the  postman — who,  as  soon  as  he  saw  us,  held  up  « 
letter  at  arm's  length,  holding  it  by  the  lower  right-hand 
corner.  Though  he  was  in  the  street,  and  I  in  the  third 
story,  I  read  my  name  upon  it. 

I  arose  in  the  morning  with  my  head  full  of  the  dream. 
When  I  was  about  half  dressed,  Mr.  Willis  came  into  my 
room,  repeating  the  very  words  I  had  heard  in  my  sleep. 
We  went  into  the  dining-room  together,  looked  down,  and 
there  stood  the  postman,  holding  up  a  letter  by  the  lower 
right-hand  comer !  Of  course  I  could  not  read  the  address 
at  that  distance ;  but  my  name  was  upon  it.  In  this  case, 
the  circumstances  were  altogether  beyond  my  control ;  and 
the  literal  manner  in  which  the  dream  was  fulfilled,  in  every 
minute  particular,  is  its  most  astonishing  feature.  Nothing 
was  added  or  omitted  :  the  reality  was  a  daguerreotype  of 
the  vision.  Never  before  had  my  friend  entered  my  room 
at  so  early  an  hour — never  before  had  the  postman  held  up 
a  letter  in  that  manner.  If  a  coincidence  only,  the  occur- 
ence is  therefore  all  the  more  marvellous. 

When  I  was  last  in  Florence,  the  sculptor  Powers  related 
to  me  a  still  more  remarkable  story,  which  had  come  to 
pass  only  a  few  days  before  my  arrival.  A  young  English 
iady  of  his  acquaintance,  who  was  living  with  her  brother 
in  the  city,  was  on  terms  of  great  intimacy  and  affection 
with  a  lady  of  her  own  age,  who  was  spending  the  summer 
with  her  father  in  a  villa  among  the  Apennines,  near  Pistoja 
This  friend  had  invited  her  to  visit  her  during  the  summer . 


MOBE   OF   TUB   SUPERNATUKAIi.  159 

she  had  accepted  the  invitation ;  and  the  middle  of  August 
was  fixed  upon  as  the  time.  Three  weeks  before,  however, 
the  young  lady  had  a  remarkable  dream.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  the  day  of  her  departure  for  the  villa  near  Pistoja  had 
arrived.  Her  trunk  was  packed ;  and  early  in  the  morning, 
&  very  curious  old  carriage  drove  to  the  door  to  receive 
her.  The  vetturino  slung  her  trunk  to  the  axletree  with 
ropes — a  disposition  of  baggage  which  she  had  never 
before  seen.  She  took  her  seat,  and  for  several  hours  jour- 
neyed down  the  vale  of  the  Ai-no,  noticing  the  scenery, 
which  was  entirely  new  to  her.  Several  trifling  incidents 
occurred  on  the  way,  and  there  was  a  delay  occasioned  by 
the  giving  way  of  the  harness ;  but  towards  evening  she 
reached  the  Apennine  villa. 

As  the  carriage  approached  the  building,  she  perceived 
^e  father  of  her  friend  standing  in  the  door,  with  a  very 
troubled  countenance.  He  came  forward,  as  she  was  pre- 
paring to  alight,  laid  his  hand  on  the  carriage  door,  and 
said :  "  My  daughter  is  very  ill,  and  no  one  is  allowed  to 
see  her.  To-night  is  the  crisis  of  her  fever,  which  will 
decide  whether  she  will  recover.  I  have  made  arrange- 
ments for  you  to  spend  the  night  in  the  villa  of  Mr.  Smith 
yonder ;  and  pray  heaven  that  my  daughter's  condition  will 
permit  you  to  return  to  us  to-morrow!"  Thereupon  he 
gave  directions  to  the  vetturino,  who  drove  to  Mr.  Smith's 
villa.  The  host  received  her  kindly,  ushered  her  into  a 
broad  entrance-hall,  and  said :  "  I  will  endeavor  to  make 
you  comfortable  for  the  night.  That  wiU  be  your  room," 
j)ointing  to  a  glass  door,  with  green  curtains,  at  the  end  o/ 
the  hall.    Here  her  dream  suddenly  stopped. 


160  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

The  next  morning  she  related  the  whole  story  to  her  biO' 
ther.  For  a  few  days  afterwards,  they  occasionally  referred 
to  it ;  but  as  she  received  information  that  her  friend  was 
in  excellent  health,  she  gradually  banished  from  her  mind 
the  anxiety  it  had  caused  her.  The  day  fixed  upon  for  hei 
ourney  at  length  arrived.  What  was  her  astonishment, 
when  the  identical  queer  old  carriage  of  her  dream  drovi 
up  to  the  door,  and  her  trunk  was  slung  by  ropes  to  the 
axletree!  This  was  the  commencement;  and  during  the 
whole  day  everything  occurred  precisely  as  she  had  already 
seen  it.  Towards  evening,  she  arrived  at  the  villa  near 
Pistoja ;  and  the  father  of  her  friend  stood  in  the  door,  with 
a  troubled  countenance.  He  came  forward,  repeating  the 
inteUigence  of  his  daughter's  illness  in  the  same  words,  and 
ordered  the  vetturino  to  drive  to  the  villa  of  Mr.  Smith. 
The  excitement  and  alarm  of  the  young  lady  had  been 
continually  on  the  increase;  so  that,  when  she  finally 
reached  the  broad  entrance-hall,  and  Mr.  Smith  asid, 
"  I  will  endeavor  to  make  you  comfortable  for  the  night. 
TTiat  will  be  your  room"  (pointing  to  the  glass  door 
with  green  curtains),  her  nerves,  strung  to  their  utmost 
tension,  gave  way,  and  she  fell  upon  the  floor  in  a  swoon. 
Fortunately,  there  was  no  ground  for  superstitious  fore- 
bodings. The  crisis  passed  over  happily,  and  the  very 
next  day  she  was  permitted  to  nurse  her  convalescen 
friend. 

Here  the  dream,  in  all  its  details,  was  narrated  three 
weeks  before  its  verification — ^thus  setting  aside  any  ques- 
tion of  the  imagination  having  assisted  in  the  latter.  It  is 
one  of  the  most  satisfactory  examples  of  second-sight  I  hav« 


KOBE  OF  THE  SUPBENATtJRAL.  161 

ever  heard  of,  and  this  must  be  my  justification  for  giving 
it  to  the  world. 

I  cannot  close  this  chapter,  without  giving  one  more 
authentic  ghost  story — to  which,  in  ray  opinion,  the  same 
explanation  will  apply  as  to  those  I  have  related  in  the  pre- 
ceding article.  A  gentleman  (pennit  me  to  withhold  his 
name,  station,  and  the  date  of  the  occurrence)  was  once 
travelling  in  the  interior  of  Sweden.  On  a  raw  evening,  in 
October,  he  arrived  at  a  large  country-town,  where  a  fair 
was  being  held.  All  the  inns  were  ftill,  and  he  found  it  no 
easy  matter  to  obtain  lodgings  for  the  night.  He  was 
weary,  from  a  long  day's  journey,  and  after  applying  at  the 
third  or  fourth  inn  without  success,  announced  to  the 
landlord  his  determination  to  remain  there,  with  or  without 
a  bed.  He  procured  some  supper,  smoked  his  pipe  in  the 
guests'  room,  and  finally,  feeling  inclined  to  sleep,  demanded 
to  be  shown  some  place  where  he  could  lie  down.  "  Have 
you  no  sofa,  or  bench,  or  bundle  of  hay  vacant  ?"  he  asked 
the  landlord.  "  No,"  said  the  latter — "  not  one ;  but — " 
here  he  hesitated — "  there  is  a  room  with  a  bed  in  it,  in  a 
small  house  at  the  back  of  the  court.,  only  " — dropping  his 
voice  to  a  whisper — "the  place  is  haimted;  and  nobody 
dares  to  spend  the  night  there."  "Oh!  if  that  is  all,'' 
laughed  the  traveller,  "  give  me  the  room  at  once.  I  don't 
believe  in  ghost  or  demon ;  and,  besides,  I'm  far  too  tired 
to  be  troubled  with  anything  of  the  sort." 

The  landlord  still  hesitated,  as  if  doubtful  whether  he 
should  expose  his  stubborn  guest  to  such  dangers;  but, 
finally,  gave  orders  to  have  a  fire  made  in  the  ill-omened 
room,  and  fresh  sheets  j.  vit  upon  the  unused  bed.     Taking  his 


162  AT   HOME  AND   ABBOAD. 

Baddle-bag8  on  his  aiin,  and  his  sword  in  his  hand,  the  tra 
veller  followed  the  servant  across  the  court-yard,  and 
entered  the  building.  The  room  was  low  and  bare,  the 
windows  closed  by  shutters,  whose  rusty  bolts  showed  that 
it  was  long  since  they  had  been  opened.  A  ruddy  fire 
of  pine  wood  waa  blazing  on  the  raised  heaith,  in  one  cor- 
ner, but  there  was  no  furniture,  except  a  narrow  bed  and  two 
chairs.  The  servant,  having  placed  the  candle  on  one  of  the 
chairs,  made  haste  to  leave ;  but  the  traveller  detained  him 
a  moment,  saying ;  "  You  see  my  sword-=-and  here  are  two 
pistols,  loaded  and  capped.  If  anything  disturbs  me  in  the 
night,  man  or  ghost,  I  shall  immediately  fire  upon  it.  Unless 
you  hear  a  shot,  leave  me  alone."  He  did  this,  from  a  sus- 
picion that  the  ghost  might  be  some  person  connected  with 
the  inn,  who,  for  purposes  of  his  own,  was  concerned  in 
banishing  all  nightly  visitors  from  the  house. 

After  the  servant  left,  the  traveller  heaped  more  wood 
on  the  fire,  carefully  examined  the  windows  and  door,  and 
after  locking  the  latter,  suspended  the  heavy  key  upon  the 
latch,  in  such  a  manner  that  the  least  movement  would 
cause  it  to  fall.  He  then  undressed,  with  the  exception  of 
his  trowsers,  placed  the  chair  with  the  caudle  at  the  head 
of  the  bed,  the  pistols  under  the  pillow,  and  lay  down,  with 
his  sword  beside  him  on  the  bed-clothes,  within  reach  of  hit 
iiaiid.  He  then  blew  out  the  candle,  and  composed  himselt 
to  rest.  As  he  did  not  feel  the  slightest  fear  or  trepidation 
he  soon  fell  into  a  sound  sleep- 
About  midnight,  he  was  suddenly  awakened  by  a  feelinj 
like  that  of  a  rush  of  cold  wind  over  his  face.  Opening  hi 
eyes  he  found  the  room  (juiet  as  before;  but  the  candle  b' 


MOSS  OP  TUB  SUFJESNATUKALk  168 

his  bedside  was  burning.  He  distinctly  recollected  having 
extinguished  it,  but  nevertheless  persuaded  himself  that  he 
must  have  been  mistaken — got  up,  threw  more  wood  on  the 
fire,  examined  the  doors  and  windows,  and,  after  having 
returned  to  bed,  snuffed  the  candle  short,  that  there  might 
be  no  mistake  this  time.  Half  an  hour  afterwards  he  was 
again  awakened  by  the  same  rush  of  cold  wind.  The  candle 
was  burning  once  more!  This  inexplicable  circumstance 
made  him  feel  excited  and  uneasy.  IJe  extinguished  the 
candle,  and  resolved  to  lie  awake,  and  see  whether  it  would 
be  lighted  a  third  time. 

Ai^other  half  hour  had  elapsed,  and  his  heavy  eyelids  had 
closevl,  in  spite  of  all  bis  struggles  to  keep  them  open,  when 
the  rush  of  wind  returned,  more  violent  than  before.  The 
candle  was  not  only  relighted,  but  a  tall  figure,  clothed  in 
a  long,  heavy  gown,  with  a  hood  falling  forward  so  as  to 
conceal  the  face,  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  An  icy 
chill  ran  through  the  traveller's  frame.  He  attempted  to 
seize  his  sword  and  pistols,  but  his  frame  seemed  paralysed, 
and  his  arms  refused  to  obey  the  direction  of  his  will.  Step 
by  step  the  figure  advanced  towards  the  bed.  It  reached 
the  bedside ;  it  slowly  lifted  its  arms,  enveloped  in  the  wide 
sleeves  of  the  gown — and,  with  an  awftil  deliberateness, 
bent  down  towards  the  traveller's  body.  In  the  frenzy  of 
terror,  he  burst  the  spell  which  seemed  to  confine  his  limbs, 
seized  the  snuffers  which  lay  nearest  his  right  hand,  and 
(Stabbed,  again  and  again,  at  the  breast  of  the  figure.  Thii 
was  the  last  thing  he  remembered. 

He  was  recalled  to  consciousness  by  a  loud  knocking  at 
the  door,  followed  by  the  &11  of  the  key  from  the  latch,  and 


164  AT  UOUK  AND  ABBOAD. 

heard  the  servant's  voice  calling :  "  Open  the  door,  if  you 
please,  sir ;  I  have  come  to  make  the  fire."  He  was  lying, 
not  in  bed,  but  upon  the  floor,  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 
The  snuffers  were  still  in  his  hand  ;  but  the  long  «teel  points 
were  bent  double.  The  morning  light  aU*eady  shone  through 
the  crack  of  the  door.  By  the  time  he  was  fully  aroused, 
he  had  recovered  his  self-possession,  and  at  once  admitted 
the  servant.  "Holy  cross!"  exclaimed  the  man — "how 
pale  you  are!  What  has  happened?"  "Nothing  what 
ever,"  answered  the  traveller,  "except  that  the  fire  haa 
gone  out,  and  I  am  almost  dead  of  cold."  He  protested 
to  the  landlord  that  he  passed  a  very  pleasant  night,  and 
ridiculed  the  notion  of  the  house  being  haunted ;  but  took 
good  care,  nevertheless,  to  leave  the  town  in  the  course  of 
the  day. 

My  readers  can  themselves  apply  to  this  story  the  expla- 
nation I  have  suggested.  And  so,  let  us  now  lid  fareweC 
to  the  border-land  of  dreams  1 


XV. 

A   NOYEMBER  TRIP   NORTHWARDS. 

[1864.] 


[f  tliere  is  any  form  of  dissipation  which  I  detest  and 
abjure,  it  is,  getting  up  at  half-past  four  in  the  morning. 
The  unfortunates  who  indulge  in  this  vicious  habit  show 
the  same  infatuation,  in  other  forms,  as  the  devotees  of 
opium  or  alcohol.  They  foresee  the  misery  which  the 
indulgence  will  occasion  them,  but  no  persuasion  can 
induce  them  to  abstain  from  it.  The  man  who  gets  up 
at  half-past  four,  in  order  to  leave  by  the  early  train,  is 
always  tormented  by  a  horrible  fear  that  he  will  not  be 
called  in  time.  It  needs  the  solemn  assurances  of  the  hotel- 
clerk,  and  of  each  of  the  attending  servants,  to  give  him  a 
little  composure ;  but  his  trepidation  is  still  so  great,  that, 
after  he  is  snugly  stowed  away  in  bed,  and  has  fallen  into 
an  unquiet  doze,  he  starts  up,  half  a  dozen  times,  thinking 


166  AT  HOME   JlSD  ABBOAD. 

that  the  fateful  hour  is  at  hand.  By-and-l }  e  hb  drops  off 
into  a  deep  sleep,  from  which  he  awakens  with  a  sudden 
shock,  after  having  slept,  as  he  supposes,  for  the  space 
of  twenty-four  hours.  He  gropes  for  his  watch  with  a 
trembling  hand,  and  looks  at  the  dial.  There  is  just  light 
enough  to  bewilder  his  vision,  but  he  dimly  sees  a  hand 
pointing  to  VI !  A  cold  sweat  breaks  out  over  him,  but  he 
finally  secures  a  match,  ignites  it,  and  finds  the  hour  to  be 
half-past  twelve.  Again  he  falls  asleep ;  but  this  time  he  is 
aroused  by  a  sound  like  the  storming  of  the  Malakoff — it 
is  the  waiter  knocking  at  his  door.  He  gets  up,  dresses 
with  a  haste  which  does  not  allow  bim  to  wash  the  gossa 
mers  of  sleep  fairly  out  of  his  eyes,  and  then  wanders 
down  endless  stairs  and  passages  of  the  dark,  unfriendly 
edifice,  with  a  vague  doubt  in  his  mind,  as  to  whether  it  is 
yesterday  or  to-morrow.  Breakfast  is  not  ready  until  the 
last  moment,  and  nothing  but  the  knowledge  that  he  shall 
get  nothing  else  until  5  p.m.  induces  him  to  swallow  the 
leathery  beefsteak,  and  the  brown,  earthy  beverage,  sup- 
posed to  be  coffee.  Mastication  is  impossible,  and  as  for 
digestion,  it  must  take  carg  of  itself.  Then  the  porter 
seizes  him,  and,  after  many  worries,  he  finally  steps  aboard 
the  cars,  just  as  the  conductor  cries  "Go  ahead  I"  and 
secures  the  half  of  a  small  seat  behind  the  door. 

Such  was  your  correspondent's  experience  on  the  morning 
of  Oct.  31,  1854;  and  his  pleasure  was  further  enhanced 
by  the  raw,  thick  fog,  through  which  the  gas-lamps  of 
Chambers  Street  glimmered  with  a  weak  yellow  glare.  For 
an  houi-  and  a  half  we  ran  through  the  same  know-nothing 
atmosphere,  until  the  peaks  of  the  Highlands  tore  and 


X   NOVEMBER   TRIP   N0R1HWARD8.  167 

scattered  the  vapors,  battling  against  their  onsets.  Cro'- 
nest  and  Butter  Hill  stood  out  clear  and  unconquered,  and 
when  we  passed  the  pines  of  Idlewild,  on  the  breezy  ter- 
race across  the  river,  there  was  an  opening  of  blue  sky 
beyond  Snake  Hill.  I  never  saw  more  gorgeous  autumnaJ 
tints  than  those  of  the  sumacs,  sassafras,  and  beech  along 
the  banks  of  the  Hudson.  But  as  we  whirled  north- 
wards, the  day  became  raw  and  gloomy,  and  the  colors 
of  the  forests  more  dull  and  monotonous.  In  Vermont 
the  trees  were  robed  in  dull  brown,  and  as  we  drew 
near  Lake  Champlain,  even  this  last  sad  gannent  was 
stripped  off,  and  the  landscapes  were  naked  and  bleak  aa 
winter. 

Beyond  Rutland  the  road  was  new  to  me,  and  my  ima- 
gination, clothing  the  country  with  summer,  restored  its 
lost  beauty.  The  view  of  Champlain,  at  Vergennes,  with 
the  misty  lines  of  the  Adirondac  in  the  background, 
reminded  me  of  Lake  Thrasymene,  which  I  saw  on  just 
such  an  afternoon  of  an  Italian  December.  At  Burlington 
we  were  obliged  to  wait  two  or  three  hours  for  the 
Whitehall  boat.  It  rained  dismally,  and  we  northern 
travellers  were  huddled  together  on  the  cold,  windy  pier, 
comforted  by  the  assurance  that  the  train  would  not  leave 
Rouse's  Point  until  we  arrived.  When  we  finally  reached 
he  latter  place,  about  half-past  nine,  we  were  coolly  in 
formed  that  the  train  never  waited  for  the  evening  boat, 
and  had  left  nearly  two  hours  before.  There  is  a  hotel  in 
jhe  station-house  (or  a  station-house  in  the  hotel,  for  I 
hardly  know  which  predominates),  and  I  secured  a  long 
sell,  with  a  window  higher  tlian  ray  head.     By  getting  on 


168  AT   HOMB   AKD   ABBOAB. 

a  chair  I  saw  a  bridge  in  the  moonlight,  which  I  took  to  bt 
the  famous  bridge  of  Rouse's  Point. 

The  next  moi-ning,  while  waiting  for  the  cars,  I  waa 
familiarly  addressed  by  a  gentleman,  as  "  Mr.  Joseph 
Whipples."  Until  I  meet  the  real  Whipples,  I  cannot 
tell  which  of  us  is  complimented  by  the  resemblance.  There 
was  a  polite  Canadian  Custom-er  in  attendance,  who  took 
ray  simple  word  as  evidence  that  I  was  no  smuggler,  and 
marked  a  double  cross  on  all  my  baggage,  which  admitted 
it  unopened  into  Canada.  The  words  "  Traverse  de  chemin 
defer''''  (Look  out  for  the  locomotive  when  the  bell  rings!), 
at  the  crossings,  first  told  me  that  I  had  crossed  the  frontier. 
The  country  was  flat  as  a  pancake,  wet  and  dreary ;  log  huts, 
painted  red,  stood  here  and  there,  alternating  with  stunted 
woods  and  fields  full  of  charred  pine-stumps.  At  the 
stopping-places,  I  saw  men  with  round  fur  caps,  and  broad, 
hardy  faces,  who  spoke  French  with  a  savage  accent,  which 
made  it  sound  like  another  language.  In  some  places  they 
were  ploughing  in  the  fields  with  real  Canadian  ponies.  We 
followed  the  course  of  the  St.  Johns  River,  which  gleamed 
brightly  on  our  right,  and  in  something  over  an  hour  came 
to  the  flourishing  town  of  St.  Johns,  near  which  there  is  a 
very  picturesque,  isolated  hill.  Here  the  road  swerved  to 
the  north-west,  and  made  direct  for  St.  Lambert,  opposite 
Montreal. 

When  we  got  out  of  the  cars,  on  the  long  pier,  and  saw 
the  stately  city  rising  behind  its  massive  quays,  I  could 
have  believed  myself — ^but  for  the  breadth  and  swiftness  of 
the  St.  Lawrence — on  the  banks  of  the  Seine.  The  suu 
suddenly  shone  out,  gilding  the  lofty  towers  of  the  cathedral, 


I 


A  NOVEMBER  TRIP  NORTHWARDS.  169 

the  tall  spires  of  churches,  the  domes  and  turned  roofs 
that  stretched  along  the  river  for  more  than  a  mile  and  a 
half,  to  which  the  bold,  wooded  mountain  in  the  rear 
formed  a  majestic  background.  I  was  at  once  reminded 
of  Auxerre,  Montreuil,  and  other  old  provincial  cities  of 
France.  A  mile  of  the  clear,  cold,  green  St.  Lawrence, 
running  at  the  rate  of  eight  or  ten  miles  an  hour,  lay 
between  me  and  the  city — a  type  of  the  vigor  and  impe- 
tuosity of  the  New  World,  encircling  the  repose  and  solidity 
of  a  scene  which  seemed  to  have  been  borrowed  from  the 
Old. 

In  spite  of  its  massive  and  solid  aspect,  few  towns  have 
suffered  more  from  fires  than  Montreal.  The  northern  and 
eastern  portions  still  abound  with  the  melancholy  ruins  left 
by  recent  conflagrations.  In  spite  of  this,  however,  and  in 
spite  of  narrow  and  dirty  streets,  the  city  has  a  finished 
air,  which  distinguishes  it  from  all  towns  of  equal  size  in 
the  States.  The  principal  material  used  in  building  is  a 
dark-gray  limestone,  which  is  very  easily  worked  in  the 
quarry,  but  becomes  quite  hard  by  exposure  to  the  air. 
The  water  of  Montreal  has  a  flavor  of  this  stone,  which  is 
by  no  means  agreeable,  nor  always  wholesome  to  strangers. 
The  principal  street,  the  Grande  Rue  St.  Jacques,  is  a 
bright,  cheerful  thoroughfare,  but  more  English  than 
French  in  its  character.  I  was  more  interested  in  the 
old  streets  nearer  the  river,  which  still  have  a  certain  Gallic 
^uaintness  about  them. 

The  weather,  after  my  arrival,  was  delicious.  The  next 
morning  dawned  without  a  cloud,  and  with  a  pure,  sweet, 
bracing  air,  such  as  I  have  rarely  breathed  on  the  Atlantic 


170  AT  HOME  AJn>  ABEOAI>. 

side  of  our  Continent.  Its  inhalation  w&s  a  viclation  of 
the  Maine  Law,  which  prohibits  the  use  of  ail  intoxicating 
beverages.  It  contained  a  stimulus  as  keen  and  active,  if 
not  so  poisonous,  as  alcohol.  I  went  out  after  breakiast, 
and  became  so  inebriated  that  I  found  it  difficult  to  return 
to  my  hotel.  I  got  quite  high — in  fact,  I  did  not  stop  until 
I  had  reached  the  summit  of  the  mountain  behind  the  city. 
On  the  way,  I  passed  a  large  reservoir  of  masonry,  which 
the  city  authorities  are  building  on  the  slope  at  the  foot  of 
the  moimtain.  The  water  will  be  forced  up  by  a  wheel  at 
Lachine,  above  the  rapids,  and  will  furnish  a  supply,  which, 
it  is  hoped,  will  prevent  Montreal  from  being  again  laid 
waste  by  fires.  The  thought  of  so  much  water,  all  with 
the  same  limestone  flavor,  and  the  same  horrid  intestinal 
qualities,  filled  me  with  repugnance.  Give  me  the  iced 
champagne  of  this  glorious  air  in  my  lungs,  and  let  those 
drink  water  who  will ! 

Montreal  has  shown  great  taste  and  good  sense  in  pre- 
serving the  mountain,  with  its  clothing  of  primitive  forest, 
within  fifteen  minutes*  reach  of  her  70,000  inhabitants. 
Behind  the  reservoir,  we  jumped  over  a  stone  wall,  and 
were  in  the  wild  woods.  There  was  a  rugged,  zigzag 
path  up  the  steep  slant  of  the  hill,  but  it  was  almost  hiddeu 
under  the  fallen  leaves.  Although  a  good  climber,  ray 
knees  became  weak  and  my  breath  short,  before  leachmg 
the  crest.  The  groves  of  pine  and  silver  birch  obstructed 
the  view,  except  at  one  point,  where  we  found  an  Irish 
boy,  lying  in  the  sun,  pointing  out  "  Mr.  Smith's  house  "  to 
mother  Irish  boy.  Here  I  was  greeted  with  the  sight,  not 
only  of  Mr    Sniitli's  house,  but  of  all  Montreal,  of  many 


A  NOVEMBER  TKIP   NORTH WABDS.  171 

leagues  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  flashing  splendidly  in  the  sun 
of  the  broad  plains  beyond,  sprinkled  with  the  white  cot 
tages  of  the  Imbitans,  and  far  in  the  dim  south,  the  outfly 
ing  spurs  of  the  Vermont  and  Adirondac  Mountains.  \\ 
was  a  grand  and  inspiring  panorama,  embraced  by  tin 
cold,  bright  blue  of  the  Canadian  sky.  Well  did  the  ful 
lowers  of  Jacques  Cartier  call  this  the  Royal  Mountain. 

We  found  another  faint  trail  leading  northwards  through 
the  pines  and  birch,  and  having  followed  it  up  for  a  short 
distance,  reached  the  opposite  brink  of  the  mountain, 
whence  we  looked  away  beyond  the  Island  of  Jesus,  gir- 
dled by  the  blue  arms  of  the  Ottawa,  to  a  distant  horizon 
of  low  hills  and  forests.  In  the  keen  northern  air,  which 
came  to  us  over  the  rim  of  that  horizon,  there  was  a  whis- 
per of  Hudson's  Bay  and  of  those  snowy  lodges  by  the 
Great  Fish  River  where  lie  the  corpses  of  the  Arctic  ex- 
plorers. It  requires  but  a  sHght  elevation  to  make  the 
ends  of  the  earth  seem  near  to  us.  Along  the  Ottawa 
River  there  are  settlements  for  two  hundi-ed  miles,  and 
many  hundred  leagues  further  to  the  North-West  Passage, 
yet  to  my  fancy  the  site  of  that  useless  problem  was  jusl 
beyond  the  range  of  vision.  There  are  bears  and  deer  in 
some  of  the  forests  I  saw,  and  the  "  ravages  "  of  the  moose 
may  be  reached  in  a  few  days'  journey. 

In  the  afternoon  I  had  the  pleasure  of  inspecting  th 
works  01  the  Victoria  Bridge,  which  is  to  span  the  St. 
Lawrence  at  this  place.  I  was  indebted  to  the  courtesy  of 
Mr.  Holmes  and  Mr.  Grant,  of  the  Grand  Trrmk  Railroad 
Company,  for  the  opportunity  of  seeing  in  detail  the  b}gia 
nmgs  of  this  colossal  undertaking.    The  bridge,  whiob  b  to 


172  AX  BOMS  AND  ABROAD. 

be  of  iron,  and  tubular,  like  tbat  over  the  Menm  Strait,  wiU 
bo  tioo  miles  in  length,  and  its  central  arch  will  have  a  span 
of  383  feet.  The  material  used  is  black  limestone,  and  the 
Titanic  piers,  which  compete  with  the  grand  masonry  of 
Egypt^  are  based  upon  the  solid  natural  rock  which  here 
lorms  the  bed  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  Immense  strength  is 
required  in  the  piers,  in  order  to  resist  the  pressure  of  the 
ice.  The  huge  blocks  of  stone  are  laid  in  hydraulic  cement 
of  the  firmest  character,  and  melted  lead,  and  strongly 
clamped  together  with  iron.  In  the  middle  of  the  river 
the  current  runs  at  the  jate  of  nine  or  ten  miles  an  hour, 
and  the  force  of  the  immense  masses  of  ice,  carried  down 
at  the  breaking  up  of  winter,  is  so  great  that  the  old  resi- 
dents of  Montreal  shake  their  heads  and  predict  that  the 
bridge  will  be  a  failure.  But  I  cannot  conceive  how  these 
piers  can  be  shaken  any  more  than  so  many  masses  of 
natural  rock.  Certainly,  human  genius  never  better  coun- 
terfeited the  strength  of  nature.  It  is  refreshing  to  see  on 
this  continent,  where  the  most  that  is  done  is  temporary 
and  transitory,  a  work  which  rivals  the  Pyramids.  The 
cost  of  the  bridge,  when  completed,  is  estimated  at 
£1,500,000,  but  will  probably  be  nearer  £2,000,000. 

On  leaving  Montreal,  your  correspondent  was  guilty  of 
ibe  same  dissipation  as  on  leaving  New  York :  he  got  up  at 
half-past  four.  There  is  some  difference,  however,  between 
a  Montreal  hotel  and  a  New  York  hotel  before  daylight. 
We  had  been  promised  our  breakfasts,  but  on  descending 
to  the  oflBce  at  a  quarter  past  five,  found  only  two  Irish 
girls  washing  the  floor.  Tliey  were  "  know-nothings  '*  in 
the  fullest  s  jnse,  and  snubbed  all  my  endeavors  to  obtain 


▲   KOYBMBBB   TKIP   NOKTUWAKDS.  178 

information.  Finally,  "  the  Superintendent,"  as  ho  styled 
himself — a  dark  gentleman  who  had  probably  once  been 
white  property,  and  now  retaliated  by  looking  upon  aU 
whites  as  his  property — made  his  appearance.  His  assump- 
tion of  superiority  was  so  sublime  that  I  was  amused  rather 
than  annoyed  by  it.  He  majestically  disdained  all  expla- 
nations, declining  all  conversation  by  a  wave  of  his  hand, 
and  the  oracular  remark  that  "  everything  was  right."  It 
happened,  in  the  end,  that  we  reached  the  ferry-boat  before 
she  pushed  off,  but  the  rapidity  with  which  we  underwent 
breakfast  would  have  astonished  a  weaker  stomach  than 
your  correspondent's.  On  landing  from  the  omnibus  on 
the  quay,  we  found  the  ticket-master  in  waiting,  with  a 
lantern  and  a  pocketful  of  tickets.  I  held  the  lantern  for 
him,  while  he  counted  out  my  change.  Of  course  there  could 
be  no  crowding  at  the  vvdndow  with  such  an  arrangement. 

The  sky  was  a  dull  gray  blanket,  with  a  strip  of  fiery 
red  binding,  in  the  north-east,  over  St.  Helen's  Island.  Ab 
the  wind  blew  it  threw  upwards  a  hidden  fringe  of  the 
same  crimson  hue,  and  the  dark,  cheerless  landscape  faded 
into  the  colors  of  dawn.  Before  we  were  half-way  across 
the  St.  Lawrence,  a  snow-squall  came  down  upon  the  river, 
almost  hiding  from  view  the  stately  city  we  were  leaving. 
The  air  was  searchingly  raw  and  cold,  and  I  took  but  a 
hasty  farewell  glance,  with  the  wish  that  I  may  one  day 
see  the  same  shores  in  the  glory  of  summer.  As  we  spei 
over  the  wet  plains,  on  our  way  to  Rouse's  Point,  the  sno^ 
continued,  and  the  country  was  soon  whitened,  far  and 
near.  The  atmosphere  had  lost  all  its  purity  and  elasticity, 
and  I  felt  glad  that  my  course  was  southwards. 


174  AT  HOMS  AND  ABBOAD. 

At  Rouse's  Point,  we  found  the  train  for  Ogdensburg  ii 
waiting.  The  Canadian  plains  appear  to  cease  at  the  fron- 
tier, for  the  country  through  which  we  passed  was  mode- 
rately undulating,  with  occasional  hills  in  the  distance.  It 
was  a  dreary  alternation  of  pine  woods,  stumpy  clearings, 
barren-looking  fields,  and  meagre  villages.  The  raw,  gusty 
day,  with  frequent  flurries  of  snow,  undoubtedly  added  to 
its  bleak  and  forbidding  aspect,  but  I  do  not  believe  that 
even  June  could  make  it  inviting.  The  road  passes  through 
the  northern  edge  of  Clinton,  Franklin,  and  St.  Lawrence 
oounties,  crossing  many  of  the  tributaries  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence, among  which  I  noted  the  Chateauguay,  Salmon,  St. 
Regis,  Hatchet,  and  Grass  Rivers.  The  country  is  all  well 
watered  and  timbered.  The  only  town  which  made  any 
show  from  the  railroad  was  Malone,  which  had  a  flourish- 
ing air.  At  one  of  the  stations,  where  I  got  out  to  warm 
myself  with  a  cup  of  coffee,  I  was  much  interested  in  the 
aspect  of  a  female  waiter.  She  stood  with  folded  arms, 
gazing  into  vacancy ,  and  when  requested  to  furnish  the  coffee 
obeyed  with  the  least  possible  expenditure  of  movement, 
removed  the  cup  and  took  the  money  in  the  same  way, 
without  honoring  me  with  a  single  glance,  and  then  folded 
her  arms  again.  The  freezing  dignity  of  her  countenance 
repelled  all  idea  of  conversation.  Were  I  a  sculptor,  1 
should  be  delighted  to  find  such  an  excellent  model  for  a 
Btatue  of  Indifference. 

The  country  improved  after  passing  Potsdam,  and  the 
road  descended  to  the  St.  Lawrence.  The  sun,  breaking 
through  the  clouds,  shone  with  a  cold  brilliance  on  the 
&rms  and  farm-houses  of  the  Canada  shore,  as  we  reached 


A    NOVEMBER   TBIP    NOETHWABDS.  175 

Ogdensburg,  the  end  of  the  day's  journey.  I  found  com 
fortable  quarters  at  the  St.  Lawrence  Hotel,  and  they  wert 
truly  welcome,  for  as  the  sky  cleared,  the  air  became  in- 
tensely cold.  The  wmdows  of  my  room  were  covered 
with  a  thick  crust  of  ice  the  next  morning,  and  the  tern 
perature  could  not  have  been  higher  than  15".  i 

Under  the  guidance  of  Judge  James,  I  saw  as  much  of 
Ogdensburg  as  the  cold  permitted.  The  Judge  is  well 
versed  in  the  early  history  of  this  region,  which  he  repeated 
to  me  while  we  were  seeking  a  distant  view  of  Chimney 
Island — so  called  from  the  ruins  of  the  old  French  fort, 
destroyed  by  Lord  Amherst.  The  situation  of  the  town  is 
fine,  with  the  exception  that  it  faces  the  north.  The  banks 
of  the  Oswegatchie,  which  here  empties  into  the  St.  Law- 
rence, are  high  and  bluff,  forming  a  crescent-shaped  curve, 
open  to  the  west.  The  crest  of  the  right  bank  is  lined 
with  handsome  dwelling-houses,  and  has  a  charmingly  pic- 
turesque air  when  viewed  from  the  bridge  below.  Con- 
spicuous among  the  buildings  is  the  Court-House,  which 
still  bears  the  marks  of  a  cannon-ball  sent  across  the  river, 
during  the  last  war.  Ogdensburg,  like  Montreal,  has  suf- 
fered terribly  from  fires,  but  in  spite  of  these  drawbacks 
to  its  growth,  it  has  a  population  of  nine  or  ten  thousand. 

I  left  for  Sackett's  Harbor  the  next  evening  in  the 
steamer  Niagara.  The  night  was  superbly  moonlit,  but 
bitterly  cold.  We  dropped  down  the  river,  ran  across  to 
Wmdmill  Point,  the  scene  of  Schultz's  defeat  during  the 
Rebellion  of  '37,  and  rounded  up  to  Prescott,  whence  a 
railroad  has  been  opened  to  Ottawa,  on  the  Ottawa  River. 
I  gave  up  all  hopes  of  seeing  the  Thousand  Islands,  which 


176  AT  HOME   AND  ABBOAD. 

it  was  said  we  should  not  reach  before  midnight,  but  did 
not  seek  my  state-room  mitil  we  had  touched  at  Morris- 
town  and  Brockville,  the  former  on  the  American,  the 
latter  on  the  Canadian  shore.  They  are  both  thriving 
places,  but  Brockville  bore  away  the  palm  of  appearance 
in  the  moonlight. 

Speaking  of  palms  reminds  me  how  I  longed  to  be  back 
again  inside  the  Tropics  that  night.  When  I  went  to  my 
state-room,  the  pitcher  contained  a  solid  lump  of  ice  instead 
of  water.  The  loose  window  rattled  in  the  wind,  and  as 
the  bedding  was  cut  according  to  the  width  of  the  berth, 
I  leave  the  reader  to  imagine  whether  a  man  could  tuck 
himself  in  or  not.  The  long  night  passed  away  in  a  weary 
battle,  wherein  Cold  did  not  lose  a  single  intrenchment, 
but  Sleep  was  utterly  routed,  and  fled.  I  diversified  my 
misery  by  looking  out  on  the  wintry  shores,  which  were 
coldly  lighted  by  the  moon.  I  have  an  idea  that  I  saw 
some  of  the  Thousand  Islands,  but  I  was  in  such  a  numb, 
torpid,  half-awake  state,  that  I  cannot  to  this  day  tell 
whether  it  was  a  dream  or  a  reality.  I  certainly  have  in 
my  mind  the  images  of  three  or  four  natural  piers  of  rock, 
surmounted  with  dark  clumps  of  pine,  but  they  are  of  such 
a  singularly  weird  aspect  that  I  half-suspect  they  belong  to 
the  realm  of  dreams. 

The  lurid  glare  of  the  dawn  upon  a  black  sky  at  last 
called  me  from  my  fi-eezing  berth.  We  were  in  the  harbor 
of  Kingston,  trying  to  make  fast  to  the  wharf,  for  it  blew  a 
gale.  The  wind  was  so  violent  that  the  captain  at  onci 
gave  up  all  idea  of  proceeding  ftirther.  I  saw  a  boat, 
manned  by  six  oarsmen,  put  vff  In  the  endeavor  to  reach  a 


A    NOVEMBER    TRIP    NORTHWARDS.  Itt 

brig  which  lay  about  a  hundred  yards  out,  but  it  could  not 
make  the  least  headway,  and  finally  was  driven  back  again. 
The  sea  was  not  very  high,  but  terribly  rough  and  chop- 
ping. As  there  was  no  chance  of  reaching  Sackett's  Harbor 
that  day  by  the  Niagara,  I  decided  to  try  my  luck  in  the 
ferry-boat  which  runs  across  to  Cape  Vincent,  connecting 
with  the  Rome  and  Watertown  Railroad,  and  in  the  mean- 
time took  a  stroll  through  Kingston. 

The  place  is  very  much  like  an  English  seaport  town — 
Bolid,  quiet,  sober  in  its  hue,  and  yet  with  a  rakish  aii 
which  is  not  easily  described.  The  same  black  limestone  is 
used  as  in  Montreal,  and  I  noticed  two  or  three  fine  Gothic 
churches — minus  the  towers — built  of  it.  The  Market  Hall 
is  really  a  noble  edifice,  and  presents  an  imposing  front  to 
the  harbor.  Kingston  has  the  reputation  of  being  a  very 
immoral  town  ;  whether  deservedly  so  or  not  I  cannot  say. 
My  survey  of  it  was  very  limited,  for  the  air  was  intensely 
keen  and  strong,  and  the  dust,  at  times,  blinding.  I  noticed 
in  the  port  a  vessel  of  1,000  or  1,200  tons,  built  for  an  Eng- 
lish house,  and  was  informed  that  shipbuilding  is  getting 
to  be  quite  an  important  business  in  the  place,  on  account  of 
the  cheapness  of  timber  and  the  facilities  for  procuiing  it. 

At  half-past  eleven  the  little  steamer  Star  dashed  out 
into  the  gale,  hoping  to  reach  Cape  Vincent  in  time  for  the 
3  P.M.  train.  She  was  obliged  to  go  below  Grand  Island 
in  order  to  avoid  the  force  of  the  wind,  which  increased  th 
distance  to  thirty-two  miles.  She  was  a  staunch  little  craft, 
and  made  good  time  after  we  got  under  the  lee  of  the 
vsland,  so  that  by  three  o'clock  we  were  in  sight  of  the 
Cape,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  tlie  train  start 


178  AT  HOME  Ain>  ABBOAD. 

Luokilj,  we  had  the  engineer  on  board,  and  the  condaotot 
Wluted  for  us  at  the  freight  depot,  which  we  reached  fifteen 
minutes  after  the  time.  Grand  Island,  which  is  twenty 
seven  miles  in  length,  is  a  wild,  bleak  tract,  belonging  to 
^/anada. 
The  country  between  Cape  Vincent  and  Watertown  haa 
poor,  unfertile  appearance,  but  seems  well  adapted  for 
grazing.  It  is  undulating  and  rather  monotonous  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  way.  Chaumont  Bay,  an  estuary  of 
Lake  Ontario,  recalls  the  name  of  Le  Ray  de  Chaumont, 
who  is  concerned  in  the  history  of  the  Rev.  Eleazer  Bour- 
bon. As  we  approached  Watertown  there  was  a  visible 
improvement  both  in  soil  and  scenery,  and  the  picturesque 
banks  of  the  Black  River  were  all  the  more  agreeable  after 
the  monotonous  country  through  which  we  had  passed. 

I  was  very  pleasantly  impressed  with  the  appearance  of 
Watertown.  It  is,  without  doubt,  the  stateliest  town  of 
its  size  in  the  coxmtry.  At  the  Woodruff  House  I  found 
accommodations  not  inferior  to  any  first-class  hotel  in  New 
York,  and  the  view  of  the  public  square  from  its  windows 
needs  only  a  crowd  to  be  metropolitan  in  its  character.  In 
the  centre  of  this  squai-e  is  a  fountain,  which,  unlike  our 
City  fountains,  plays.  The  main  street  is  a  boulevard, 
with  a  iouble  row  of  trees  between  the  sidewalk  and  the 
central  highway.  On  either  side  thereof  are  neat  resi 
deuces,  each  embowered  in  its  own  private  trees  and 
flowers.  The  Black  River  skirts  the  town,  foaming  down 
a  gorge  of  dark  limestone  rock.  Here  and  there  it  plunges 
into  cataracts,  which  fringe  its  dark-brown  translucenoe 
with  streaks  of  snow.    Its  color  is  that  of  a  shaded  river— 


A.  NOVEMBER  TRIP   NORTHWARDS.  l^t 

a  son  of  the  forests  and  the  mountains,  steeped  in  the  flavo? 
of  hemlock  and  fir.  But,  wild  mountaineer  as  it  is,  it 
must  labor  like  the  rest  of  us,  and  keeps  many  a  mill-wheel 
going. 

From  Watertown  I  came  southwards,  and  succeeded  in 
enjoying  the  last  days  of  the  Indian  Summer,  before  the 
winter  from  which  I  had  fled  overtook  me  again. 


XVI. 

THE   MAMMOTH  CAVE. 

[MAT,   1866.1 


PaBT  L — ^ThB  JorTRNET  TuiTUKR. 

We  were  a  family  party  of  six,  and  ourselves  and  oui 
baggage,  including  a  bucket  for  the  horses,  just  filled  two 
carriages.  It  was  our  intention  to  have  left  New  Albany, 
Ind.  (where  we  had  been  sojourning  a  day  or  two),  in  the 
moming,  in  order  to  reach  Elizabethtown  the  same  evening ; 
but  the  heavy  rains  of  the  previous  night  prevented  us 
from  starting  before  noon.  Crossing  the  Ohio  River  to 
Portland  we  struck  the  Nashville  turnpike  on  the  outskirts 
of  Louisville,  and  took  up  our  journey  towards  Salt  River, 
twenty-two  miles  distant.  The  country  through  which  we 
passed  is  low,  slightly  undulating,  and  very  fertile.  Now 
and  then  appeared  an  old  family  mansion  surrounded  by  its 
orchards  and  gardens,  and  presenting  much  the  same  aspect 


THE   MAMMOTH   CAVK.  181 

ol  comfort  and  repose  as  the  country  homesteads  of  Peniir 
Bylvania  and  Virginia.  There  were  the  same  avenues  of 
locusts,  now  in  snowy  and  fragrant  bloom ;  the  same  hearj 
brick  dwelling  with  its  portly  front  door,  rarely  opened 
but  on  state  occasions ;  the  same  bowers  of  honeysuckle, 
trellises  of  grapes,  beds  of  peonies  and  crown-imperials, 
and  the  same  scattered  clusters  of  out-houses,  backed  by 
the  rounded  tops  of  the  orchard  trees.  The  season  is 
nearly  a  month  in  advance  of  the  valley  of  the  Hudson ;  all 
forest  trees— even  the  latest — are  in  their  young  foliage, 
the  apple  and  pear  blossoms  are  gone,  and  the  com  is 
ready  for  its  first  harrowing. 

The  afternoon  was  intensely  hot  and  sultry.  Heavy 
thunder-clouds  were  piled  up  on  the  northern  and  southern 
horizon,  but  they  gradually  rolled  away  without  crossing 
Qur  path.  The  latter  part  of  our  journey  was  through 
forests  of  beech,  oak,  and  elm.  The  former  tree,  which 
greatly  predominated,  attains  a  size  and  beauty  rarely 
seen  east  of  the  Alleghanies.  Its  foliage  is  the  purest  and 
most  brilliant  green,  charmingly  relieved  by  the  smooth, 
white  trunk,  and  the  long,  slender,  feathery  curve  of  the 
drooping  boughs.  We  were  delighted  with  the  alternation 
of  woodland  and  farm-scenery  which  the  road  afforded 
as.  Towards  evening  we  came  again  upon  the  Ohio — the 
Beautiful  River,  here  as  elsewhere — and  followed  its  bank 
to  the  mouth  of  Salt  River,  on  the  opposite  bank  of  which 
is  West-Point,  our  resting-place  for  the  night. 

Where  it  debouches  into  the  Ohio,  Salt  River  is  not 
more  than  fifty  or  sixty  yards  in  breadth,  but  very  t'lt'c]* 
It  is  never  fordable    even   in  the  dryest  seasons;   an.i 


182  AT   HOME  AND  ABBOAS. 

being  navigable  for  fourteen  miles  above  its  mouth,  hai 
not  been  bridged  at  this  point.  We  descended  its  steep 
and  difficult  banks,  embarked  our  carriage  upon  a  flat 
ferry-boat,  and  were  conveyed  across.  The  view,  looking 
up  the  river,  was  very  beautiful.  Tall  elms  and  sycamores 
clothed  the  banks,  dropping  their  boughs  almost  to  the 
water,  and  forming  a  vista  of  foliage  through  which  the 
stream  curved  out  of  sight  between  wooded  hills.  I 
longed  to  be  rowed  up  it.  While  on  the  spot,  I  took 
occasion  to  inquire  the  derivation  of  the  slang  political 
phrase,  "Rowed  up  Salt  River,"  and  succeeded  in  dis- 
covering it.  Formerly  there  were  extensive  salt-works  on 
the  river,  a  short  distance  from  its  mouth.  The  laborers 
employed  in  them  were  a  set  of  athletic,  belligerent  fel- 
lows, who  soon  became  noted  far  and  wide  for  their 
achievements  in  the  pugilistic  line.  Hence  it  became  a 
common  thing  among  the  boatmen  on  the  Ohio,  when  one 
of  their  number  was  refractory,  to  say  to  him :  "  We'll 
row  you  up  Salt  River  " — where,  of  course,  the  bully  salt 
men  would  have  the  handling  of  him.  By  a  natural  figure 
of  speech  the  expression  was  applied  to  political  candidates, 
first,  I  believe,  in  the  Presidential  campaign  of  1 840,  and  is 
now  extensively  used  wherever  the  Native- American  lan- 
guage is  spoken. 

About  nine  o'clock  the  next  day  the  clouds  broke  a 
little,  the  rain  of  the  night  ceased,  and  we  started  for 
Elizabethtown.  After  passing  two  or  three  miles  of  fer- 
tile bottoms,  studded  with  noble  beech  woods,  the  road 
entered  a  glen  in  the  Muldraugh  Hilla-'-a  long,  lateral 
branch  of  the  Cnniberland  Rnnge,  which  stretches  quitt 


THE     MAMMOTH     CAVE.  183 

through  the  centre  of  Kentucky.  The  road  we  were  tra- 
velling is  one  of  the  finest  in  the  United  States — broad, 
smooth,  and  thoroughly  macadamized.  It  follows  the 
windings  of  the  glen  for  three  or  four  miles,  so  well  graded 
that  the  ascent  is  barely  perceptible.  A  brook  swollen 
by  the  rains  foamed  below  us,  now  on  this  side,  now  on 
that,  while  numbers  of  tiny  streams  spouted  from  openings 
in  the  limestone  rocks  on  either  hand.  The  elms  and 
beeches  in  the  bed  of  the  glen  almost  met  above  our  heads, 
yet  did  not  hide  the  slopes  of  splendid  foliage  of  which 
they  were  the  hem.  In  one  of  the  wildest  spots  the  mouth 
of  a  cavern  opened  on  the  right  hand,  pouring  out  a 
smooth  cascade  of  silvery  water.  The  scarlet  aquilegia, 
the  phlox,  the  white  purslane,  the  violet,  and  other  Spring 
flowers,  grew  in  the  crevices  of  the  rocks,  and  brightened 
the  fairy  solitude. 

After  reaching  the  summit  of  the  glen,  we  entered  a 
rolling  upland  region,  heavily  wooded  with  forests  of  oak, 
hickory,  and  maple.  The  soil  was  thin  and  stony,  and  the 
country  had  rather  a  poor  and  unfertile  aspect  compared 
with  that  along  the  Ohio  River.  The  farm-houses  were 
mostly  built  of  logs,  and  many  of  them  had  what  might  be 
termed  an  inclosed  portico — a  square  opening  of  the  height 
of  the  first  story — passing  entirely  through  them.  All, 
even  the  poorest,  had  their  negro  hut  or  huts  adjoining, 
though  some  of  the  latter  appeared  to  be  tenantless.  The 
impression  these  establishments  made  upon  me  was  that  of 
moderate  activity,  intelligence  ditto,  and  content  with 
things  as  they  are.  We  met  many  nien  on  horseback, 
dressed  in  what  appeared  to  be  homespun  cloth — ^tall. 


164  AT  HOMJS   AMD   ABBOAD. 

large-limbed,  robust  individuals,  and  fine  specimens  of  ani 
mal  health  and  vigor.  Occasionally  we  passed  large,  can' 
vas-covered  wagons,  drawn  by  three  or  four  horses.  The 
farmers  saluted  us  with  the  stiff,  silent  nod  peculiar  to 
Anglo-Saxons,  but  the  negro  teamster  frequently  raised 
his  hat  to  the  ladies.  We  saw  but  a  single  carriage, 
driven  by  a  gentleman  who  politely  gave  us  the  best  side  of 
the  road,  notwithstanding  he  was  entitled  to  it.  The  same 
thing  would  not  have  happened  north  of  the  Ohio  River. 

We  stopped  for  dinner  at  the  Cool  Spring  tavern.  The 
landlord,  who  had  very  much  the  air  of  a  parson,  received 
us  with  much  ceremony,  and  then  blew  dolorously  upon  a 
conch-shell  until  "  the  boys,"  who  were  at  work  in  a  distant 
field,  heard  the  summons  and  hurried  home  to  take  charge 
of  our  horses.  We  were  regaled  with  Kentucky  ham, 
eggs,  excellent  coffee,  and  corn-bread  of  that  peculiar 
sweetness  and  excellence  which  only  a  Southern  cook  can 
give  it.  Indeed,  the  excellence  of  the  country  taverns  in 
Kentucky  was  a  matter  of  constant  surpiise  to  me.  With- 
out a  single  exception  we  were  treated  with  a  cordiality, 
and  even  kindness,  which  gave  them  all  a  friendly  and 
home-like  air,  quite  different  from  the  dreary  aspect  of 
similar  institutions  north  of  the  Ohio.  The  fare  also  was 
as  notably  good  as  it  is  notably  bad  in  the  more  progressive 
States  of  the  West.  Kentucky  may  be  called  slow  in 
comparison  with  Ohio  and  Illinois,  but  there  is  more 
genuine  comfort  and  more  genial  social  feeling  within 
her  borders  than  in  either  of  the  latter  States. 

Beyond  Elizabethtown,  we  journeyed  for  ten  miles 
through  a  rich,  well-wooded  rolling  country  to  the  village 


THE   MAHAIOTU   GAVXto  186 

of  Nolin,  on  the  creek  of  the  same  uume,  and  halted  for 
the  night  at  the  taveni  of  Mr.  Gehagan.  We  found  a 
wood  tire  in  the  wide  chimney  very  agreeable,  for  the 
evening  air  was  unexpectedly  cool.  I  am  told  that  fires 
are  frequently  kindled  in  the  evenings  as  late  as  the  begin- 
ning of  June.  With  this  custom,  however,  is  connected 
that  of  leaving  the  doors  open,  which  insures  ventilation. 
It  belongs  perhaps  to  the  out-door  life  of  the  Kentucldans, 
for  I  found  few  doors  that  would  shut  closely.  We  were 
greatly  amused  by  the  impossibility  of  keeping  our  doors 
closed.  In  almost  all  cases  every  one  who  enters,  master 
or  servant,  leaves  them  wide  behind  him.  I  rather  like  the 
habit,  but  it  takes  a  little  time  to  get  used  to  it. 

We  started  early  the  next  morning,  for  the  macadamized 
road  ceased  at  Nolin,  and  we  had  eighteen  miles  of  "  dirt 
road  "  before  us.  Weary  miles  they  were,  for  the  rain  had 
Boflened  the  sticky  red  clay  soil,  and  our  horses,  though 
willing  enough,  were  rather  too  light  for  such  work.  The 
toountry  was  similar  to  that  we  had  passed,  but  richer,  more 
[>pen,  and  better  cultivated.  With  the  wide,  undulating 
landscape  blooming  and  breathing  of  Spring,  and  a  pale- 
blue  sky  of  the  utmost  clearness  overhead,  I  found  the 
journey  delightful.  After  passing  a  long  wooded  ridge, 
we  saw  the  blue  wavy  line  of  the  Green  River  Hills  before 
OS,  but  we  approached  them  very  slowly  until  we  struck  the 
turnpike  again,  four  miles  from  Munfordsville.  In  the 
woods  through  which  our  road  lay  we  frequently  saw  fat 
rabbits  leaping  among  the  bushes,  and  once  a  large  wild 
turkey  darted  across  the  path  before  us.  Wood-robins  and 
Bat-birds  sang  among  the  trees,  and  in  the  evening  long 


186  AT  HOUS  Ain>  ABBOAI). 

rnstiing  lin^  of  pigeons  flew  over  oar  heads  on  their  wa) 
to  the  north-west. 

The  wooded  hills  assumed  more  broken  and  picturesque 
forms  as  we  approached  Munfordsville,  and  Summerseal 
Knob,  beyond  Green  River,  made  a  prominent  feature  ol 
the  landscape.  The  road  followed  the  w^indings  of  a  shal- 
low glen,  clothed  with  small  oaks,  for  two  or  three  miles ; 
after  which  we  came  upon  Munfordsville,  the  county  town 
of  Hart  County.  We  drew  up  at  Judge  Kerr's,  near  the 
Court-House,  and  while  our  dinner  was  preparing  had  an 
opportunity  of  inspecting  the  natives,  who  were  gathered 
together  to  vote  at  a  county  election.  No  important  oflices 
were  at  stake,  and  the  occasion  seemed  to  be  passing  off 
without  much  excitement  of  any  kind.  There  were  nearly 
as  many  horses  present  as  men,  and  a  few,  but  not  many 
good  specimens  of  horse-flesh.  A  grocery  opposite  ap- 
peared to  be  doing  a  good  business  in  the  corn-whiskey  line 
— a  business  which  appears  to  be  confined  to  groceries,  for 
7re  saw  but  one  tavern  on  the  road  where  liquors  were  sold. 
The  tall,  sun-burned  voters  were  collected  into  groups,  dis- 
cussing K.  N.  and  S.  N.  matters,  but  in  rather  a  quiet, 
listless  way,  as  if  they  did  not  consider  the  welfare  of  their 
country  wholly  at  stake. 

We  were  furnished  with  a  dinner  admirable  in  all  re 
9pects,  and  after  coi\sulting  with  the  Judge  concerning  the 
roads  to  the  Mammoth  Cave,  decided  to  go  on  to  Ritter'e 
Tavern,  at  Woodlands,  and  there  rest  for  the  night.  The 
Cave  was  but  fifteen  miles  distant  by  the  nearest  road,  bui 
it  was  a  very  rough  way  among  the  hills,  and  there  was 
not  enough  dayhght  left  to  accomplish  it  with  our  jaded 


THE  MAMMOTH  GATB.  18) 

horses.  We  descended  a  steep  bank  to  the  bottom  of  the 
glen  in  which  flows  Green  River,  crossed  the  stream  in  a 
ferry-boat,  and  ascended  the  opposite  bank  to  Woodson- 
ville.  The  two  towns  seem  not  more  than  a  stone's  throw 
ttpart,  bat  are  separated  by  a  hollow  even  more  wild  and 
beautiful  than  that  of  Salt  River.  The  river  is  a  clear 
green  hue,  fringed  by  noble  elms,  beeches,  sycamores,  and 
sweet  gum-trees,  which  rise  in  walls  of  foliage  from  its 
translucent  floor.  I  thought  of  Bryant's  "  Green  River," 
to  which  his  lines  are  not  more  applicable  than  to  its  Ken- 
tucky brother : 

"  Yet  fiur  as  thou  art,  thou  shunneat  to  glide^ 
Beautiful  stream  I  by  the  village  aide ; 
But  windest  away  from  haunts  of  men, 
To  silent  valley  and  shaded  glen." 

Five  miles  beyond  Woodsonville  we  came  to  a  cluster 
of  houses  on  a  hill,  which  constituted  an  election  precinct. 
There  was  the  usual  congregation  of  men  and  horses. 
Some  ten  or  twelve  of  the  former — ^full-grown,  voting 
citizens — were  playing  marbles  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 
with  as  much  interest  as  any  group  of  school-boys  I  ever 
saw.  They  paid  not  the  least  regard  to  our  approach,  and 
we  were  obliged  to  drive  around  them  to  avoid  a  collision. 
A  gaunt  individual,  mounted  on  a  lean  sorrel  horse,  rode 
up  to  me  with  the  question  :  "  How  are  the  Know-Nothin's 
gittin'  along  whar  you  come  from,  stranger  ?  "  I  replied : 
"  They  are  pretty  well  split  up :  I  come  from  New  York," 
and  asked  him,  in  turn,  what  they  were  doing  in  the  pre- 
■ent  election.     "  Oh,"  said  he,  "  they  can't  do  nothin*  thii 


188  AT  H01£B  Xm>  ABROAD. 

year,  no  how,  but  next  year  they'll  make  a  good  show  ;  I 
sort  o'  lean  that  way,  myself^^ — and  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word  he  leaned  over  his  horse's  neck  until  the  saddle, 
which  was  imgirthed,  began  to  turn,  and  his  head  being 
none  of  the  steadiest,  he  had  some  difficulty  in  regaining 
\xit  equilibrium. 

The  turnpike  here  ceased,  and  we  came  upon  a  heavy 
dirt-road  leading  through  woodlands  and  pleasant  green 
valleys  between  the  abrupt  "  knobs  "  with  which  this  part 
of  the  country  is  studded.  Many  returning  voters  on 
horseback  kept  us  company.  There  was  one  who  passed 
us  in  a  state  of  unconsciousness  mounted  on  a  mare,  behind 
which  ran  a  little  black  mule.  He  reeled  in  the  saddle  at 
such  a  rate  that  I  expected  every  moment  to  see  him 
tumble  into  the  road,  but  he  always  regained  his  balance 
miraculously  at  the  last  moment.  Towards  sunset  we 
found  him  again,  doubled  up  in  a  comer  of  the  fence  dead 
asleep,  but  still  holding  on  to  the  bridle  of  his  mare,  who 
was  grazing  around  his  feet.  At  dusk  we  reached  Wood- 
lands, a  capacious  tavern,  seated  behind  a  lawn  covered 
with  ornamental  shrubbery — a  very  cheerfiJ,  home-like 
place.  Everything  in  and  about  the  house  gave  tokens  of 
neatness  and  comfort.  The  negro  quarters  were  clean  and 
commodious,  and  the  spruce  servants  seconded  our  genial 
host,  Mr.  Ritter,  in  his  endeavors  to  make  our  stay  plea- 
sant. 

Woodlands  is  eleven  miles  from  the  Cave,  by  a  wild 
road  over  the  hills.  Mr.  Ritter  gave  me  minute  direc- 
tions for  finding  the  way,  as  the  country  is  almost  uniuha 
bited.    After  travelling  two  miles  through  the  woods  we 


THE  MAmiOTH  CAYS.  189 

passed  a  log  cabin  and  clearing,  beyono  vrbicli  onr  way 
was  blocked  up  by  a  tree  wbich  had  been  blown  down 
by  the  winds.  Two  of  us  took  rails  from  the  fence  to 
serve  as  levers,  and  as  the  ladies  joined  in  the  work  with 
good  will,  the  log  was  gradually  heaved  aside  suflScientlj 
to  allow  the  carriages  to  pass.  After  our  labors  were  over 
three  men  (inmates  of  the  log-cabin)  arrived  for  the  pur- 
pose of  assisting  us.  Crossing  a  deep  valley,  we  climbed 
an  opposite  ridge,  by  a  very  steep  and  difficult  road,  and 
seeing  the  long,  wooded  crest  of  the  hill  extending  far 
before  us,  supposed  that  the  worst  part  of  the  journey  was 
over.  But  exactly  at  this  juncture  the  tongue  of  my  car- 
riage snapped  in  twain  in  consequence  of  a  sudden  wrench, 
and  we  were  left  stranded.  We  had  neither  ropes,  knives, 
nor  implements  of  any  kind,  and,  after  holding  a  council  of 
war,  decided  that  the  only  thing  to  be  done  was  to  leave 
the  T\Teck  in  the  woods.  We  succeeded  in  detaching  the 
broken  parts,  lashing  them  to  the  remaining  carriage,  and 
mounting  three  persons  upon  the  two  horses,  using  the 
carriage  cushions  as  saddles.  One  of  the  natives  of  this 
region,  who  had  ridden  up  inmiediately  after  the  accident, 
stood  Avatchuig  us  during  these  proceedings,  and  at  their 
close  observed :  "  Well,  I  guess  you're  the  right  stripe: 
yon  can  get  along  " — after  which  he  left  us. 

We  made  slow  but  merry  travel  through  the  seven  mile* 
of  forest  intervening  between  us  and  the  Cave  Hotel,  where 
we  arrived  ia  season  for  dinner,  without  further  aooident. 


XVII. 

THE   MAMMOTH  CAYE. 

[MAT,    186B.] 


Pabt  n. — ^Thb  Fibst  Joubnby  Undkb  Gbounb. 

NoTwiTHSTAiTOiNG  the  iiTegular  order  of  our  arrival,  aftei 
our  mishap  in  the  woods,  we  were  cordially  welcomed  by 
Mr.  Miller,  the  host.  The  hotel  is  a  long,  straggling  pile 
of  wooden  buildings,  with  stone  chimneys  attached  to  the 
exterior  at  the  gable  ends.  A  wing  of  furnished  apart- 
ments joins  its  northern  end,  fronting  upon  a  lawn  where 
tall  forest  trees  have  been  allowed  to  stand  in  their  natural 
attitudes  and  groupings.  The  main  body  of  the  hotel,  with 
this  wing,  furnishes  at  least  six  hundred  feet  of  portico, 
formmg  one  of  the  most  delightful  promenades  imaginable 
for  Summer  weather.  Around  the  place  intervenes  a  nar- 
row  girdle  of  cleared  land,  beyond  which  stand  the  primi- 
tive woods,  wherein  the  deer  and  wild  turkey  still  make 


TH£  MAMMOTU   CA.rS.  191 

their  habitation.  We  heard  the  call  of  the  latter  as  we 
sat  in  the  shaded  portico.  The  rooms  are  sufficiently  large 
and  comfortable,  though  their  doors  have  the  same  inabi' 
lity  to  be  closed  which  I  have  already  noticed  as  a  charao- 
eristic  of  Kentucky  architecture. 

The  season  for  travel  had  hardly  commenced,  and  we 
found  but  seven  visitors  on  our  arrival.  Two  of  these  had 
just  returned  from  a  trip  beyond  the  rivers,  under  the 
charge  of  "  Stephen,"  the  famous  cave  guide,  and  their 
clothes,  bespattered  with  mud,  gave  us  some  indication  of 
the  character  of  the  trip.  As  our  stay  was  limited  to 
two  days,  we  decided  to  visit  the  cis-fluvial  avenues  the 
same  afternoon,  reserving  the  grand  journey  over  the 
water  for  the  next  day.  The  rivers  had  been  gradually 
rising  for  four  days,  and  were  then  of  precisely  the  most 
inconvenient  stage,  though  not  yet  impassable.  Mr.  Miller 
informed  me  that  they  rarely  rose  more  than  four  days  in 
succession,  and  there  was  no  likelihood  at  present  that  we 
should  not  be  able  to  cross  them.  I  engaged  Stephen  foi 
the  next  day,  and  took  Alfred,  one  of  the  other  guides,  foi 
our  initiatory  excursion. 

Aftei'  dining  off  a  noble  haunch  of  venison,  Alfred  raad<: 
his  appearance  with  a  bundle  of  lamps,  and  announced  that 
everything  was  in  readiness.  Turning  around  the  hotel  to 
he  northward,  we  entered  a  rocky  ravine  in  the  forest, 
nd  in  a  few  minutes  were  made  aware  by  a  gust  of  cold 
wind  that  we  had  reached  the  entrance  to  the  underground 
world.  The  scene  was  wild  and  picturesque  in  the  ex- 
treme, yet  the  first  involuntary  sensation  was  something 
tkiii  to  terror.    The  falling  in  of  the  roof  of  the  main 


192  AT   HOMK   AND    ABBOAB. 

avenue  of  the  cave  as  it  approached  the  surface  of  the 
earth  has  formed  a  gap,  or  pit,  about  fifty  feet  in  depth, 
terminating  in  a  dark,  yawning  portal,  out  of  which  a 
steady  current  of  cold  air  was  breathed  in.  our  faces. 
Ti-ees  grew  around  the  edges  of  the  pit,  almost  roofin 
t  with  shade;  ferns  and  tangled  vines  fringed  its  sides 
and  a  slender  stream  of  water  falling  from  the  rocks  which 
arched  above  the  entrance,  dropped  like  a  silver  veil  before 
the  mysterious  gloom.  The  temperature  of  the  cave  is 
SQ**  throughout  the  year,  and  that  of  the  upper  air  being 
about  15°,  the  colder  stratum  was  ebbing  out.  When 
the  inside  and  outside  temperatures  are  equal,  as  they  fre- 
quently are,  there  is  no  perceptible  current. 

Taking  each  a  lighted  lamp,  we  descended  some  rocky 
steps  to  the  floor  of  the  cavern,  passed  behind  the  tinkling 
cascade,  and  plunged  into  the  darkness.  The  avenue 
rapidly  contracts,  and  is  closed  by  an  artificial  wall,  with  a 
door,  which  is  sometimes  locked  to  exclude  pilferers. 
Having  passed  this,  the  daylight  disappeared  behind  us 
Our  eyes,  blinded  by  the  sudden  transition  to  complete 
darkness,  could  barely  see  a  roof  of  solid  rock  not  far 
above  our  heads,  and  masses  of  loose  stones  piled  on  either 
side.  This  part  of  the  avenue  is  called  "  The  Narrows." 
The  space  gradually  expanded  ;  the  arch  of  the  ceiUng 
became  more  dim  and  lofty,  and  the  walls  only  showed 
themselves  by  a  faint  and  uncertain  glimmer.  The  flooi 
cnder  our  feet  was  firm  and  well-beaten,  the  air  we  breathed 
pure  and  refreshing,  and  a  feeling  of  perfect  confidence 
and  security  replaced  the  shanking  sensation  which  I  think 
nearly  every  one  must  feel  on  first  entering. 


Tmi.  MAMMOTH   GATE.  IM 

As  the  pupils  of  our  eyes  expanded,  and  we  began  to 
discern  more  clearly  by  the  light  of  our  lamps  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  grand  avenue,  we  reached  a  spacious  hall  called 
The  Vestibule,  \^hich  is  gaid  to  be  directly  under  the  Cave 
Hoti  1.  It  is  seventy  or  eighty  feet  in  height,  branching  off 
on  one  side  into  a  spacious  cave  called  Audubon's  Avenue. 
Near  it  is  the  Great  Bat-room,  which  hundreds  of  bats 
have  chosen  as  a  place  of  hibernation.  We  were  now  in 
the  Main  Cave,  which  extended  for  three  or  four  miles 
before  us  with  an  average  height  of  about  fifty,  and  an 
average  breadth  of  at  least  eighty  feet,  in  some  places 
expanding  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  What  are  the 
galleries  of  the  Vatican,  the  Louvre,  Versailles,  and  the 
Crystal  Palaces  of  London  and  Paris  to  this  gigantic  vault 
hewn  in  the  living  rock  ?  Previous  to  the  crossing  of  the 
Bottomless  Pit  in  1838,  and  subsequently  of  the  Rivers  in 
1840,  all  the  published  accounts  of  the  Mammoth  Cave 
described  only  this  avenue  and  its  branches.  The  sides  are 
perpendicular  walls  with  a  distinct  and  sometimes  bold 
cornice,  and  a  slightly-arched  ceiling  which  often  resembles 
a  groined  vault.  The  limestone  lies  in  horizontal  strata 
'with  scarcely  a  fault,  and  all  the  wonderful  forms  which  it 
assumes  are  clearly  traceable  to  the  action  of  water. 

Lnmediately  on  entering,  you  see  the  remains  of  the  salt- 
petre works,  which  were  carried  on  here  fiom  1808  to 
1814.  The  old  hoppers  or  leaching  vats,  the  sluices  for 
carrying  off  the  water,  and  many  other  appliances,  are  still 
almost  as  perfect  as  if  the  manufacture  had  just  been  relin- 
quished. The  wood-w<jrk  remains  perfectly  sound  and 
ancorrupted,  and  even  the  ruts  made  by  cai-t-wheel^  and 


Ift4  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

the  prints  of  the  oxen's  hoofs  in  the  then  moist  soil,  have 
not  been  effaced.  It  is  said  that  saltpetre  to  the  value  of 
$20,000  was  washed  from  the  earth  in  one  year,  and  that 
ill  the  course  of  three  years  the  same  earth  became  as 
richly  impregnated  as  before.  This  property  is  also  com 
municated  to  the  air,  but  probably  in  a  less  degree.  I 
am  not  atvare  that  it  has  ever  been  analysed;  but  whether 
fi'om  the  absence  of  vegetable  exhalations  and  the  conse- 
quent purity  of  its  constituent  elements,  or  from  the  pre- 
sence of  some  exhilarating  property,  it  is  certainly  more 
bracing  and  invigorating  than  the  air  of  the  upper  world. 
After  we  had  become  accustomed  to  its  diminished  tem- 
perature, its  inhalation  was  a  luxury.  I  can  only  compare 
it  to  a  very  mild  nitrous  oxide.  The  oxen  which  were 
taken  into  the  cave  to  haul  earth  to  the  saltpetre  vats 
became  fat  and  plump  in  the  course  of  two  or  three  months 
without  any  extra  feed.  As  a  sanitarium  for  consump- 
tive patients,  the  cave  does  not  seem  to  answer ;  but  the 
experiment  has  not  yet  been  fairly  tried — most  of  the 
invalids  who  came  here  having  been  in  the  advanced  stages 
of  the  disease.  Besides,  the  absence  of  sunlight — which 
seems  to  exercise  a  subtle  influence  upon  human  as  upon 
vegetable  vitality — might  counterbalance  in  many  casea 
the  advantages  of  an  equable  and  stimulating  air. 

Nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  beyond  The  Vestibule,  we 
came  to  a  second  dome  inserted  like  a  transept  in  the  main 
avenue  or  nave,  and  called  The  Church.  The  roof,  which 
is  about  eighty  feet  high,  is  almost  Gothic ;  and  on  the  left 
hand  is  a  gallery  or  choir  with  a  projecting  pulpit  at  one 
of  tljp  angles.     Here  service  is  often  performed  on  Sun 


XHB  MAMMOTH  CAVE.  106 

days  during  the  summer.  We  took  our  seats  on  some 
ambers  taken  from  the  saltpetre  vats,  while  the  guide 
ascended  to  the  gallery  and  finally  took  bis  station  in  the 
pulpit.  Here  he  kindled  a  Bengal  light,  which  hissed  and 
sputtered  like  a  sacrificial  flame,  throwing  a  strong  pale- 
blue  lustre  upon  the  vast,  rude  arches,  and  bringing  out 
the  jagged  walls  in  vivid  relief  against  the  profound  dark 
ness  on  either  hand.  In  spite  of  the  semi-sanctity  given  to 
the  place  this  illumination  seemed  to  me  nothing  less  than 
an  offering  to  the  Kentucky  gnomes  and  kobolds — ^the 
underground  fairies  who  have  hollowed  for  themselves  this 
marvellous  palace  under  her  green  hills. 

Continuing  our  walk,  with  eyes  that  now  saw  clearly  not 
only  the  grand  dimensions  of  the  avenue,  but  its  rude  sug- 
gestions of  pilasters,  friezes,  and  cornices,  and  the  dark 
cloud-patterns  that  mottled  its  gray  ceiling,  we  passed  in 
succession  the  Kentucky  Cliffs  (so  called  from  their  resem- 
blance to  the  rocks  on  Kentucky  River),  Willie's  Spring,  a 
tiny  thread  of  water  which  has  channelled  itself  a  fantastic 
fluted  niche  from  the  top  to  the  base  of  the  wall,  and  the 
Second  Hoppers,  where  the  operations  of  the  old  miners 
seem  to  have  been  prosecuted  on  a  very  extensive  scale. 
Above  these  hoppers,  on  the  right  hand,  is  the  mouth  ol 
the  "Gothic  Avenue,  branching  off  at  right  angles  to  the 
main  cave.  It  is  reached  by  a  flight  of  steps.  The  subter- 
ranean scenery  became  moi'e  and  more  striking  as  we 
advanced.  The  roof  is  coated  with  a  thin  incrustation  of 
gypsum,  which  is  colored  in  patches  with  black  oxide  of 
manganese,  giving  it  a  rude  resemblance  to  a  gray  sky 
flecked  with  dark  clouds.    In  the  waving  and  un^ertaio 


IN  AT  HOMB  AND  ABBOXD. 

tight  of  the  lamps,  these  clouds  seem  to  move  as  you  wa]]^ 
and  to  assume  capricious  and  fantastic  forms.  Now  you 
see  an  oval  lake  surrounded  with  shrubbery,  now  a  oouob- 
ant  beast,  or  a  sittijig  figure  like  the  colossal  deity  of  a 
rheban  tomb.  In  one  place  there  is  a  huge  ant-eater,  verj 
perfect ;  in  another  an  Indian  chief  wrapped  in  his  blanket ; 
then  a  giant,  with  his  wife  and  child ;  and  finally,  a  char- 
coal sketch,  in  which  the  imaginative  can  see  Napoleon 
crossing  the  Alps. 

Under  the  last  of  these  pictures  Alfred  stopped,  and 
after  stating  that  we  were  just  one  mile  from  the  entrance, 
threw  the  light  of  his  lamp  upon  a  large  white  rock  which 
lay  upon  our  right  hand,  and  asked  us  what  it  resembled. 
"  Why,"  said  one  of  us,  "  it  is  very  much  like  a  coflfin." 
"  You  are  right,"  said  he  ;  "it  is  the  Giant's  CoflBn,  67  feet 
in  length."  He  then  informed  us  that  he  should  leave  the 
main  cave  and  take  the  road  to  the  River  Styx,  in  order  to 
show  us  some  of  the  most  remarkable  objects  on  this  side 
of  that  stream.  We  followed  him,  one  by  one,  into  a 
crevice  behind  the  coflSn,  at  the  bottom  whereof  yawned 
a  narrow  hole.  Half-stooping,  half- crawling,  we  descended 
through  an  irregular,  contracted  passage,  to  a  series  of 
basement  halls,  called  the  Deserted  Chambers.  The  first 
of  these  is  the  Wooden  Bowl,  a  room  about  100  feet  in 
diameter,  with  a  low,  slightly  concave  ceiling.  The  name 
may  have  been  suggested  by  this  circumstance,  although 
there  is  a  story  of  an  ancient  wooden  bowl  having  been 
foimd  in  it  by  the  first  persons  who  entered.  A  staircase 
called  the  Steps  of  Time — for  what  reason  it  is  impossible 
to  say — pleads  to  still  lower  chambers,  two  of  which  ar« 


THB  MAMMOTH   GATE.  107 

connected  by  a  passage  called  the  Arched  Way,  from  the 
Bmooth  and  regular  curve  of  its  white  ceiling.  In  the 
^irthest  one  is  "Richardson's  Spring,"  a  little  bowl  of 
crystal  water,  which  we  found  very  cool  and  refreshing 
despite  the  flavor  of  the  limestone  rock. 

The  roof  presently  shot  up  into  a  pointed,  irregular 
vault,  and  we  heard  the  sound  of  dropping  water.  Alfred 
«rho  was  in  advance,  cautioned  us  to  remain  still  while  he 
leaned  forward  and  held  out  his  lamp,  which  disclosed  the 
mouth  of  a  pit.  The  sides  were  as  smooth  as  if  hewn  by  a 
stone-cutter,  and  worn  into  deep  grooves  and  furrows  by 
the  waters  of  ages.  A  log  is  placed  along  one  side  to  pro- 
tect visitors,  and  we  leaned  upon  it  while  he  kindled 
a  sheet  of  oiled  paper  and  suffered  it  to  whirl  slowly  down 
into  the  gulf,  glimmering  on  the  wet  walls  and  the  dark 
pools  of  water  in  its  mysterious  womb. 

Leaving  the  deserted  chambers,  we  descended  a  steep 
staircase  into  the  Labyrinth — a  winding  way  thirty  or 
forty  feet  high,  and  barely  wide  enough  for  two  persons  to 
pass.  This  brought  us  to  another  pit,  along  the  brink  of 
which  we  walked,  clambered  up  a  ledge,  and  at  last  reached 
a  window-like  opening,  where  Alfred  bade  us  pause.  Lean- 
ing over  the  thin  partition  wall,  the  light  of  onr  united 
lamps  disclosed  a  vast  gJiraraering  hall,  the  top  of  which 
vanished  in  darkness  and  the  bottom  of  which  we  could 
only  conjecture  by  the  loud,  hollow  splash  of  water-drops 
that  came  up  out  of  the  terrible  gloom.  Directly  in  front 
of  us  hung  a  gigantic  mass  of  rock,  which  in  its  folds  and 
masses  presented  a  wonderful  resemblance  to  a  curtain. 
It  had  a  regular  fringe  of  stalactites,  and  there  was  a  short 


198  AT  HOMB  AND  ABBOAD. 

outer  curtain  overlapping  it  at  the  top.  The  length  of  Ihii 
piece  of  limestone  drapery  conld  not  have  been  less  tbic 
one  hundred  feet.  In  a  few  moments,  Alfred,  who  had 
left  us,  re-appeared  at  another  window  on  the  right  hand, 
where  he  first  dropped  some  burning  papers  into  the  gul^ 
and  then  kindled  a  Bengal  light.  It  needed  this  illumination 
to  enable  us  to  take  in  the  grand  dunensions  of  the  dome. 
We  could  see  the  oval  arch  of  the  roof  a  hundred  feet  above 
our  heads ;  the  floor  studded  with  the  stalagmitic  pedestals 
as  far  below ;  while  directly  in  front  the  huge  curtain  that 
hung  from  the  centre  of  the  dome — ^the  veil  of  some 
subterranean  mystery — shone  rosy-white,  and  seemed  to 
wave  and  swing,  pendulous  in  the  awful  space.  We  were 
thoroughly  thrilled  and  penetrated  with  the  exceeding 
sublimity  of  the  picture,  and  turned  away  reluctantly  as 
the  fires  burned  out,  feeling  that  if  the  cave  had  nothing 
else  to  show  its  wonders  had  not  been  exaggerated. 

Leaving  Goran's  Dome — the  name  which  has  been  given 
to  this  hall — we  retraced  our  way  through  the  Labyrinth, 
and  following  the  main  passage  a  short  distance  further, 
came  to  the  Bottomless  Pit,  formerly  the  limit  of  excursions 
in  this  direction.  It  was  finally  crossed  by  means  of  a  ladder, 
and  is  now  securely  bridged,  and  the  path  along  its  bi'ink 
protected  by  an  iron  railing.  The  bridge  is  renewed  every 
four  years,  even  though  the  timbers  remain  sound,  in  order 
to  guard  against  all  possibility  of  an  accident.  The  Pit  is  1 75 
feet  deep,  and  is  covered  by  a  pointed  dome  forty  or  fifty  feet 
high.  It  is  a  horrid  gulf — dark,  yawning,  and  awful  as  the 
mouih  of  Tartarus.  Pieces  of  burning  paper  dropped  from 
the  bridge  slowly  fell  into  the  depth,  eddying  backwards  and 


THB   MAMMOTH   CAVX.  199 

forwards  and  showing  the  black,  furrowed  walls  on  eithei 
side.  The  vault  above  our  heads,  in  its  grooves  and  nichei 
and  projecting  points,  reminded  me  very  vividly  of  the 
Moorish  domes  in  the  Alhambra.  There  is  a  stalactitic 
element  in  Saracenic  architecture  which  must  have  had  its 
uggestion  in  Nature. 

The  avenue  beyond  the  pit  leads  to  the  River  Styx,  but 
as  we  had  reserved  that  portion  of  the  cave  for  the  next 
day's  trip,  we  returned  through  the  Deserted  Chambers  to 
the  Main  Cave.  A  short  distance  beyond  the  Giant's  CoflSn 
we  reached  the  Great  Bend,  where  the  avenue  changes  its 
direction  at  a  very  acute  angle.  It  is  still  upwards  of  one 
hundred  feet  wide,  and  sixty  or  seventy  in  height,  with  the 
same  rough  fi-iezes  and  cornices,  and  the  forms  of  clouds 
and  phantom  figures  on  its  ceiling.  We  passed  several 
stone  and  frame  houses,  some  of  which  were  partly  in  ruin. 
The  guide  pointed  them  out  as  the  residence  of  a  number 
of  consumptive  patients  who  came  in  here  in  September, 
1843,  and  remained  until  January.  "I  was  one  of  the 
waiters  who  attended  upon  them,"  said  Alfred.  "  I  used 
to  stand  on  that  rock  and  blow  the  horn  to  call  them  to 
dinner.  There  were  fifteen  of  them,  and  they  looked  more 
like  a  company  of  skeletons  than  anything  else."  One  of 
the  number  died  here.  His  case  was  hopeless  when  he 
entered,  and  even  when  conscious  that  his  end  was  near  he 
refused  to  leave.  I  can  conceive  of  one  man  being  benefitet 
by  a  residence  in  the  cave,  but  the  idea  of  a  company  ot 
lank,  cadaverous  invalids  wandering  about  in  the  awfh. 
gloom  and  silence,  broken  only  by  their  hollow  coughs— 
3oubly  hollow   and   sepulchral   there — is  terrible.     On  f 


200  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

mound  of  earth  near  the  Dining  Room  I  saw  some  cedai 
trees  which  had  been  planted  there  as  an  experiment 
They  were  entirely  dead,  but  the  experiment  can  hardly 
be  considered  final,  as  the  cedar  is  of  all  trees  the  most 
easily  injured  by  being  transplanted. 

I  now  noticed  that  the  ceiling  became  darker,  and  that 

he  gray  cornice  of  the  walls  stood  out  from  it  in  strong 
relief.  Presently  it  became  a  sheet  of  unvarying  blackness, 
which  reflected  no  light,  like  a  cloudy  night-sky.  All  at 
once  a  few  stars  glimmered  through  the  void,  then  more 
and  more,  and  a  firmament  as  far  off  and  vast,  apparently, 
as  that  which  arches  over  the  outer  world,  hung  above  our 
heads.  We  were  in  the  celebrated  Star  Chamber.  Lean- 
ing against  a  rock  which  lay  upon  the  right  side  of  the 
avenue,  we  looked  upwards,  lost  in  wonder  at  the  marvel- 
lous illusion.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  effect  of  this 
mock  sky.  Your  reason  vainly  tells  you  that  it  is  but  a 
crust  of  black  oxyd  of  manganese,  sprinkled  with  crystals 
of  gypsum,  seventy-five  feet  above  your  head.  You  see 
that  it  is  a  fathomless  heaven,  with  its  constellations  twink- 
ling in  the  illimitable  space.  You  are  no  longer  upon  this 
earth.  You  are  in  a  thunder-riven  gorge  of  the  mountains 
of  Jupiter,  looking  up  at  the  strange  firmament  of  that 
darker  planet.  You  see  other  constellations  rising,  fer 
up  in  the  abyss  of  midnight,  and  witness  the  occultation  of 

emoter  stars. 

The  fascination  of  that  scene  would  have  held  us  there 
for  the  remainder  of  the  day  if  the  guide  had  permitted  it. 
After  indulging  us  for  what  he  considered  a  sufficient  length 
of  time,  he  took  our  lamps,  and  descending  into  a  branch 


THB  MAMMOTH   CAVK.  201 

oaTern  that  opened  from  the  floor,  treated  us  to  some  fine 
effects  of  light  and  shade.  By  a  skilful  management  of 
his  lights  he  produced  the  appearance  of  a  thunder-cloud 
rising  and  gradually  spreading  over  the  sky.  The  stars  arc 
lost ;  the  comet,  gleaming  portentous  on  the  horizon,  dis 
appears ;  and  the  gorge  is  wrapped  in  shadow.  Then  the 
clouds  break  and  clear  away,  and  the  stars  seem  to  twinkle 
with  a  more  bright  and  fi'osty  lustre  after  their  obscuration. 
"  Take  care  of  yourselves !"  cries  the  guide,  and  we  heai 
his  footsteps  passing  under  the  floor.  He  has  all  our  lamps, 
and  we  can  now  see  but  a  faint  glimmer  through  the 
opening  he  entered.  Now  it  is  but  the  ghost  of  a  glimmer ; 
and  now,  as  his  footsteps  are  more  indistinct,  it  ceases  alto- 
gether. Yes,  this  is  darkness — solid,  palpable  darkness. 
Stretch  out  your  hand  and  you  can  grasp  it ;  open  your 
mouth  and  it  will  choke  you.  Such  must  have  been  the 
primal  chaos  before  Space  was,  or  Form  was,  or  "  Let  there 
be  light!"  had  been  spoken.  In  the  intense  stillness  I 
could  hear  the  beating  of  my  heart,  and  the  humming 
sound  made  by  the  blood  in  its  circulation. 

After  a  while  a  golden  nebulous  glow  stole  upon  the 
darkness,  seemingly  brighter  than  the  sunrise  radiance  of 
the  East,  and  increased  until  our  guide  and  lamps  rose 
above  the  horizon.  We  now  returned  to  the  Second 
Hoppers,  and  mounted  to  the  Gothic  Avenue.  For  more 
than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  this  avenue  has  a  ceiling  perfectly 
flat,  with  every  appearance  of  having  received  a  coat  of 
plaster.  It  is  smoked  over  in  all  parts  with  the  names  of 
vulgar  visitors,  from  which  circumstance  it  is  called  th« 
Register  Room.     Persons  formerly  earned  candles  in  theii 


202  AT  HOME   AND  ABBOAD. 

taips  tlu-ough  the  cave,  and  by  tying  them  to  poles,  &iu> 
ceeded  in  not  only  smoking  their  names  upon  the  ceiling 
but  in  many  instances  their  portraits — for  there  were  fre- 
quently rude  attempts  of  drawing  the  figures  of  sheep  and 
pigs.  The  lamps  used  at  present  prevent  all  such  desecra- 
tion,  but  there  are  still   (and  probably  always  will  be) 

ouching  applications  for  candles. 

The  roof  gradually  became  broken  and  rugged,  studded 
here  and  there  with  unfinished  stalactites,  and  we  now 
entered  the  Gothic  Chapel,  where  those  stony  icicles  become 
large  -enough  to  form  ribbed  pillars  and  fair  Gothic  arches. 
The  <€iling  is  not  more  than  thirty  feet  high,  so  that  this 
haU  ^as  nothing  of  the  grandeur  of  Goran's  Dome,  but  it  is 
verj  curious  and  beautiful.  Beyond  this  the  specimens  of 
BtaJfactitic  formation  are  very  numerous,  and  I  have  not  time 
to  describe  them  minutely.  We  passed  Napoleon's  Breast- 
works, Vulcan's  Shop,  the  Elephant's  Head,  and  the  Pillars 
of  Hercules,  hard  by  which  is  the  Lover's  Leap,  where  the 
journey  ceased.  Here  the  floor  of  the  avenue  suddenly 
falls  away,  leaving  a  gulf  about  fifty  feet  deep,  over  which 
projects  a  long,  pointed  rock.  By  descending  into  the  gulf 
you  can  enter  a  lower  gallery  leading  to  other  wonders, 
among  which  the  guide  mentioned  "  The  Devil's  Cooling 
Tub,'*  but  we  had  scarcely  sufiicient  time  to  explore  it. 

We  retraced  our  steps  to  the  Second  Hoppers,  and  then 
returned  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  having  been  four  hourg 
underground,  and  travelled  about  five  miles.     When  we 

cached  the  entrance  and  looked  out  from  behind  the 
falling  skein  of  water  the  trees  seemed  to  be  illuminated 
with  an  unnatural  fire.    The  daylight  had  a  warm  yeUoii 


TTa  MAMMOTH  CAYS.  203 

hue,  intensely  bright,  and  the  sky  was  paler  but  more 
luminous  than  usual.  The  air,  by  contrast  with  the  exhila- 
rating nitrous  atmosphere  below,  felt  close,  unpleasant]) 
warm,  and  oppressive — like  that  of  an  ill-ventilated  green- 
house in  Winter.  There  was  too  much  perfume  in  it — ^to» 
many  varieties  of  vegetable  smells — for  I  found  that  tht 
short  absence  had  made  my  scent  unusually  keen  and 
intelligent.  This  first  sensation  soon  wore  off,  and  left  us 
with  no  other  unpleasant  effect  from  our  trip  than  that  of 
great  hunger,  of  which  Mr.  Miller  speedily  relieved  as. 


XVIII. 

THE   MAMMOTH  CAYE. 

[MAY,   1860.] 


Part  IIT. — ^A  Day  Beyond  thb  Styx, 

The  next  morning  we  made  preparations  for  an  early  start, 
as  we  had  a  long  day's  journey  before  us.  Our  party  was 
increased  to  eleven  by  the  addition  of  a  bridal  pair,  a  young 
Tennessean,  and  two  silent  Boston  gentlemen.  We  had 
two  guides :  Stephen,  whom  I  had  specially  engaged,  and 
Mat.  The  ladies,  with  one  exception,  were  attired  in 
Bloomer  costume,  greatly  to  the  merriment  of  the  party 
but  much  to  their  own  convenience.  Dresses  are  kept  at 
the  hotel  for  the  use  of  lady  visitors,  and  I  would  advise  all 
such  to  make  use  of  them.  In  addition  to  tiic  fupply  of 
lamps  the  guides  carried  canteens  of  oil  and  baskets  of 
provisions  for  the  dinner  we  were  to  make  in  the  regions 


TKB  MAMMOTH  CAVB.  905 

beyond  the  Styx.  Thus  equipped  and  provided  for,  we  set 
out  immediately  after  breakfast. 

Stephen,  who  has  had  a  share  in  all  the  pi-incipal  explora* 
tions  and  discoveries,  is  almost  as  widely  known  as  tie 
i/ave  itself.  He  is  a  slight,  graceful,  and  very  handsome 
mulatto  of  about  thirty-five  years  of  age,  with  perfectly 
regular  and  clearly  chiselled  features,  a  keen,  dark  eye,  and 
glossy  hair  and  moustache.  He  is  the  model  of  a  guide — 
quick,  daring,  enthusiastic,  persevering,  with  a  lively  appre- 
ciation of  the  wonders  he  shows,  and  a  degree  of  intelli- 
gence unusual  in  one  of  his  class.  He  has  a  smatteiTiig  of 
Greek  mythology,  a  good  idea  of  geography,  history,  and 
a  limited  range  of  literature,  and  a  familiarity  with  geolo- 
q:ical  technology  which  astonished  me.  He  will  discourse 
"pon  the  various  formations  in  the  Cave  as  fluently  as  Pro- 
fessor SilUman  himself.  His  memory  is  wonderfully  reten- 
tive, and  he  never  hears  a  telling  expression  without  trea- 
suring it  up  for  later  use.  In  this  way  his  mind  has  become 
the  reijository  of  a  great  variety  of  opinions  and  compari- 
sons, which  he  has  sagacity  enough  to  collate  and  arrange, 
and  he  rarely  confuses  or  misplaces  his  material.  I  think 
no  one  can  travel  under  his  guidance  without  being  inte- 
rested in  the  man,  and  associating  him  in  memory  with  the 
realm  over  which  he  is  chief  ruler. 

Mat,  who  ranks  next  to  Stephen  among  the  guides,  is 
also  a  mulatto,  of  about  the  same  age — a  careful,  patient, 
intelligent,  and  amiable  man,  but  with  less  geological  know- 
ledge than  the  latter.  He  does  not  belong  to  the  cave 
property,  but  is  hired  out  by  his  master.  Stephen  and 
Alfred  belonged  to  Dr.  Croghan,  the  late  owner  of  the  cave, 


206  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

and  are  to  be  manumitted  in  another  year,  with  a  numoei 
of  other  slaves.  They  are  now  receiving  wages,  in  order 
to  enable  them  to  begin  freedom  with  a  little  capital,  in 
Liberia,  their  destined  home.  Stephen,  I  hear,  has  com 
inenced  the  perusal  of  Blackstone,  with  a  view  to  practise 
law  there,  but  from  his  questions  concerning  the  geography 
of  the  country,  I  foresee  that  his  tastes  will  lead  him  to 
become  one  of  its  explorers.  He  will  find  room  and  verge 
enough  in  the  Kong  mountains  and  about  the  sources  of  the 
Niger,  and  if  I  desired  to  undertake  an  exploration  of  those 
regions,  I  know  of  few  aids  whom  I  would  sooner  choose.* 

There  was  no  outbreathing  from  the  regions  below  as 
we  stood  at  the  entrance  to  the  Cave,  the  upper  atmosphere 
having  precisely  the  same  temperature.  We  advanced  in 
single  file  down  the  Main  Avenue,  which,  from  the  increased 
number  of  lamps,  showed  with  greater  distinctness  than  on 
our  first  trip.  Without  pausing  at  any  of  the  objects  of 
Interest  on  the  road,  we  marched  to  the  Giant's  Coflin, 
crawled  through  the  hole  behind  it,  passed  the  Deserted 
Chambers,  and  reached  the  Bottomless  Pit,  the  Umit  of  our 
journey  in  this  direction  the  previous  day. 

Beyond  the  Pit  we  entered  upon  new  ground.  After 
passing  from  under  its  Moorish  dome  the  ceiling  became 
low  and  the  path  sinuous  and  rough.  I  coidd  only  walk 
by  stooping  considerably,  and  it  is  necessary  to  keep  a 
sharp  look-out  to  avoid  striking  your  head  against  the  tran» 
v^erse  jambs  of  rock.  This  passage  is  aptly  called  the  Val 
ley   of  Humiliation.     It   branches   off  to   the   right  int( 

*  Stephen,  however,  remained  at  the  cave  until  manumitted  by  Death 
d»  died  in  1858. 


THE   MAJIMOTH    CAVB.  207 

another  passage  called  Pensico  Avenue,  which  containa 
some  curious  stalactitic  formations,  similar  to  the  Gothic 
Gallery.  We  did  not  explore  it,  but  turned  to  the  left  and 
entered  an  extremely  narrow,  winding  passage,  which 
meanders  through  the  solid  rock.  It  is  called  Fit  Man's 
Misery,  and  any  one  whose  body  is  more  than  eighteen 
inches  in  breadth  will  have  trouble  to  get  through.  The 
largest  man  who  ever  passed  it  weighed  two  hundred  and 
sixty  pounds,  and  any  gentleman  weighing  more  than  that 
must  leave  the  best  part  of  the  cave  unexplored.  None 
of  us  came  within  the  scope  of  prohibition  (Nature,  i\ 
seems,  is  opposed  to  corpulence),  and  after  five  minutes' 
twisting,  we  emerged  into  a  spacious  hall  called  the  Great 
Relief.  Its  continuation  forms  an  avenue  which  leads  to 
Bandits'  Hall — a  wild,  rugged  vault,  the  bottom  of  which 
is  heaped  with  huge  rocks  that  have  fallen  from  above. 
All  this  part  of  the  Cave  is  rich  in  striking  and  picturesque 
effects,  and  presents  a  more  rude  and  ii-regular  character 
than  anything  we  had  yet  seen. 

At  the  end  of  Bandits'  Hall  is  the  Meat-Room,  where  a 
fine  collection  of  limestonp  'lams  and  shoulders  are  sus- 
pended from  the  ceiling,  as  in  a  smoke-house.  The  resem- 
blance, which  is  really  curious,  is  entirely  owing  to  the 
action  of  water.  The  air  now  grew  perceptibly  damp,  and 
a  few  more  steps  brought  us  to  the  entrance  of  River  HalL 
Here  the  ceiling  not  only  becomes  loftier,  but  the  floor 
gradually  slopes  away  before  you,  and  you  look  down  into 
the  vast  depths  and  uncertain  darkness,  and  question  your- 
self if  the  Grecian  fable  be  not  indeed  true.  While  I 
paused  on  the  brink  of  these  fresh  mysteries  the  others  of 


208  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

the  party  had  gone  ahead  under  the  charge  of  Mat 
Stephen,  who  remained  with  me,  proposed  that  we  should 
descend  to  the  banks  of  the  Styx  and  see  them  crossing  the 
river  upon  the  Natural  Bridge.  We  soon  stood  upon  the 
brink  of  the  black,  silent  water ;  the  arch  of  the  portal  was 
scarcely  visible  in  the  obscurity  far  above  us.  Now,  as  far 
below,  I  saw  the  twinkle  of  a  distant  lamp,  then  another 
and  another.  "  Is  it  possible,"  I  asked,  "  that  they  have 
descended  so  much  further  ?"  "  You  forget,"  said  Stephen, 
"  that  you  are  looking  hito  the  river  and  see  their  reflected 
images.  Stoop  a  httle  and  you  will  find  that  they  are  high 
above  the  water."  I  stooped,  looked  under  an  arch,  and 
saw  the  slow  procession  of  golden  pomts  of  light^passing 
over  the  gulf  under  the  eaves  of  a  great  cliff;  but  another 
procession  quite  as  distinct  passed  on  below  until  the  last 
lamp  disappeared  and  all  was  darkness  again. 

We  then  resumed  the  regular  trail,  which  led  us  along 
the  edge  of  a  cliff  about  thirty  feet  above  the  waters  of 
the  Dead  Sea,  a  gloomy  pool,  which  is  evidently  connected 
with  the  Styx.  An  iron  railing  has  been  placed  along  the 
edge  to  protect  those  whose  nerves  are  weak.  At  the  end 
of  the  cliff  we  descended  a  long  ladder,  clambered  over 
masses  of  rocks  made  slippery  by  the  water,  and  gained 
the  Natural  Bridge,  which  is  a  narrow  path  or  ledge  around 
a  projecting  rock,  bridging  the  river.  The  path  is  only 
about  eighteen  inches  wide,  and  a  false  step  would  precipi 
tate  the  explorer  thirty  feet  below  into  the  Styx.  Such  is 
the  caution  of  the  guides,  however,  and  the  sense  of  seen, 
rity  which  even  the  most  timid  feel,  that  no  accident  hag 
Q\ev  happened.    Five  minutes  more  and  the  roughest  and 


most  slippery  scrambling  brought  us  to  the  banks  of  th« 
Lethe  River,  where  we  found  the  rest  of  tl  e  party. 

The  river  had  lisen  since  the  previous  day,  and  was  ai 
the  most  inconvenient  stage  possible.  A  part  of  the  Rivei 
Walk  was  overflowed,  yet  not  deep  enough  to  float  th« 
boats.  Mat  waded  out  and  turned  the  craft,  which  wa« 
moored  to  a  projecting  rock,  as  near  to  us  as  the  watei 
would  allow,  after  which  he  and  Stephen  carried  us  one  by 
one  upon  their  shoulders  and  deposited  us  in  it.  It  was  a 
rude,  square  scow,  well  plastered  with  river  mud.  Boards 
were  laid  across  for  the  ladies,  the  rest  of  us  took  our  seats 
on  the  muddy  gunwales,  the  guides  plied  their  paddles,  and 
we  were  afloat  on  Lethe.  One  hundred  feet  above  our 
heads  hung  the  vaulted  rock ;  half-way  down  there  ran  a 
regular  cornice,  arched  on  the  vmder  side,  and  with  jagged 
edge,  showing  that  there  had  fonnerly  been  two  grand 
corridors,  placed  vertically,  which  some  convulsion  had 
broken  into  one.  Either  end  of  this  mighty  hall  was  lost 
in  the  darkness,  but  the  sound  of  our  voices  rose  to  the 
roof  and  reverberated  along  it  until  they  seemed  like  the 
voices  of  unseen  beings  speaking  back  to  us  out  of  the  dis- 
tance. The  water  has  a  steady  temperature  of  54° ;  it  is 
clear,  apparently  of  a  pale  green  color,  and  pleasant  to  the 
taste.  It  had  a  very  perceptible  current,  and  flowed  in  a 
diagonal  course  across  the  line  of  our  march,  or,  as  nearly 
ati  I  could  estimate,  in  the  direction  of  Green  River. 

After  a  ferriage  of  about  one  hundred  yards,  we  landed 
on  a  bank  of  soft  mud  beside  a  small  ai-m  of  the  river, 
which  had  overflowed  the  usual  path.  We  sank  to  om 
■ndee  in  the  moist,  tenacious  soil,  floundering  laboriously 


210  AT  HOME  AKD  ABBOAD. 

along  until  we  were  brought  to  a  halt  by  Echd  River,  the 
thii'd  and  last  stream.  This  again  is  divided  into  three  or 
four  arms,  which,  meandering  away  under  low  arches,  finally 
unite.  At  present,  owing  to  the  high  water,  there  is  but 
one  arch  open,  so  that  instead  of  the  usual  single  voyage 
of  three  quarters  of  a  mile,  we  were  obliged  to  make 
several  short  ferriages.  Twice  again  were  the  guides 
obliged  to  carry  us  on  their  shoulders  through  the  shal- 
lows, and  once  we  succeeded  in  passing  along  a  narrow 
ledge  of  rock  overhanging  a  deep  pool,  only  by  using 
Stephen's  foot  as  a  stepping-stone.  After  crossing  the 
gecond  branch  of  Echo  River  we  found  ourselves  at  the 
foot  of  a  steep  hill  of  loose  sand,  beyond  which  we  could 
see  masses  of  rock  piled  up  almost  to  the  ceiling  of  the 
lofty  hall.  This  was  the  commencement  of  Purgatory,  a 
portion  of  which  domain  we  were  obliged  to  traverse  on 
account  of  the  difficulty  of  getting  through  what  is  called 
the  Second  Arch. 

Stephen  here  entered  the  boat  alone,  lay  down  on  his 
back  in  the  bottom,  shot  under  a  low  projecting  rock,  and 
was  soon  lost  to  our  sight.  Under  the  guidance  of  Mat  we 
climbed  the  sand-hills,  mounted  the  loosely-piled  rocks,  and 
after  a  short  purgatorial  experience,  descended  again  to  a 
low  arch  opening  on  the  last  branch  of  Echo  River.  A 
we  stood  on  the  wet  rocks,  peering  down  into  the  black 
translucence  of  the  silent,  mysterious  water,  sounds — ^firs 
distant,  then  near,  then  distant  again — stole  to  us  from 
under  the  groined  vaults  of  rock.  First,  the  dip  of  many 
oars;  then  a  dull,  muffled  peal,  rumbling  away  like  the 
echoes  of  thunder ;  then  a  voice  marvellously  sweet,  but 


THE   MAMMOTH   CAYS.  3^11 

presently  joined  by  others  sweeter  still,  taking  up  the 
dying  notes  ere  they  faded  into  silence,  and  prolonging 
them  through  remoter  chambers.  The  full,  mellow  strains 
rose  until  they  seemed  sung  at  our  very  ears,  then  relapsed 
like  ebbing  waves,  to  wander  off  into  solitary  halls,  then 
approached  again,  and  receded,  hke  lost  spirits  seeking  here 
and  there  for  an  outlet  from  the  wo^ld  of  darkness.  Oi 
was  it  a  chorus  of  angels  come  on  some  errand  of  pity  and 
mercy  to  visit  the  Stygian  shores  ?  As  the  heavenly  har- 
monies thickened,  we  saw  a  gleam  on  the  water,  and  pre- 
sently a  clear  light,  floating  above  its  mirrored  counterfeit, 
swept  into  sight.  It  was  no  angel,  but  Stephen,  whose 
single  voice  had  been  multiplied  into  that  enchanting 
chorus. 

The  whole  party  embarked  in  two  small  boats,  and  after 
a  last  voyage  of  about  two  hundred  yards,  were  landed 
beyond  the  waters,  and  free  to  explore  the  wonderful 
avenues  of  that  new  world  of  which  Stephen  is  the  Colum- 
bus. The  River  Hall  here  terminates,  and  the  passages  are 
broken  and  irregular  for  a  short  distance.  A  few  minutes 
of  rough  travel  brought  us  to  a  large  circular  hall  with  a 
vaulted  ceiling,  from  the  centre  of  which  poured  a  cascade 
of  crystal  water,  striking  upon  the  slant  side  of  a  large 
reclining  boulder,  and  finally  disappearing  through  a  funnel- 
shaped  pit  in  the  floor.  It  sparkled  like  a  shower  of  pearls 
m  the  light  of  our  lamps,  as  we  clustered  around  the  brink 
oi  the  pit  to  drink  from  the  stores  gathered  in  those  natu- 
ral bowls  whioh  seem  to  have  been  hollowed  out  for  the 
ises  of  the  invisible  gnomes. 

Beyond  Cascade  Hall  commences  Silliman's  Avenue,  8 


212  AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

passage  about  twenty  feet  wide,  forty  or  fifty  in  heigh'^ 
and  a  mile  and  a  half  in  length.  The  floor  is  in  some 
places  smooth  and  firm,  in  others  broken  and  rough,  with 
deep  dips  which  often  communicate  with  smaller  passages 
or  "  side  cuts "  that,  after  winding  through  the  rock  for 
ome  distance,  find  their  way  back  to  the  main  avenue.  The 
walls  on  either  side  have  bold,  projecting  cornices,  above 
which  springs  a  well-arched  ceiling.  There  are  few  objects 
of  special  interest  in  this  avenue,  but  I  was  never  tired  of 
watching  the  procession  of  lamps  as  they  wound  up  and 
down  its  rocky  floor,  and  the  picturesque  play  of  light  and 
shade  on  the  gray  walls  and  cornices,  the  niches  and  hollow 
vaults. 

After  a  steady  walk  of  a  mile  and  a  half — the  distance  is 
not  exaggerated,  for  I  timed  it — we  reached  a  gigantic 
bluff,  which,  facing  us,  divided  the  avenue  into  two  parts. 
That  to  the  left  retains  the  name  of  Silliman,  and  continues 
for  nearly  a  mile  further  without  leading  to  any  result. 
The  other  was  called  "  The  Pass  of  El  Ghor "  by  some 
traveller  who  had  been  in  Arabia  Petraea — but  the  name  is 
a  pleonasm,  as  el  ghor  signifies  a  narrow,  diflScult  pass 
between  rocks.  While  we  rested  a  few  minutes  on  some 
broad  stones  at  the  base  of  the  cliff'  Stephen  climbed  up  to 
the  platform  behind  the  broad  cornice  of  the  wall,  and 
brought  us  down  a  handful  of  fibrous  gypsum  as  white  as 
snow.  The  ladies  eagerly  appropriated  pieces  of  it  as  speci- 
mens, but  he  observed  depreciatingly,  "You  will  tlirow 
that  away  before  long." 

Our  lamps  were  replenished  and  we  entered  El  Ghor, 
which  is  by  far  the  most  picturesque  avenue  in  the  cave.   It 


THE   MAMMOTH    CAVE.  318 

is  a  narrow,  loft}  passage  meandering  through  the  heart  of 
a  mass  of  horizontal  strata  of  limestone,  the  broken  edgeo 
of  which  assume  the  most  remarkable  forms.  Now  there 
are  rows  of  broad,  flat  shelves  overhanging  your  head : 
now  you  sweep  around  the  stern  of  some  mighty  vessel 
with  its  rudder  set  hard  to  starboard ;  now  you  enter  a  lit- 
tle vestibule  with  friezes  and  mouldings  of  almost  Doric 
symmetry  and  simplicity ;  and  now  you  wind  away  into  a 
Cretan  labyrinth  most  uncouth  and  fantastic,  whereof  the 
Minotaur  would  be  a  proper  inhabitant.  It  is  a  continual 
succession  of  surprises,  and,  to  the  appreciative  visitor,  of 
raptures.  The  pass  is  somewhat  more  than  a  mile  and  a 
half  in  length,  and  terminates  in  a  curious  knot  or 
entanglement  of  passages  leading  to  two  or  more  tiers  of 
avenues. 

We  were  now,  according  to  Stephen's  promises,  on  the 
threshold  of  wonders.  Before  proceeding  further  we 
stopped  to  drink  from  a  fine  sulphur  spring  which  fills 
a  natural  basin  in  the  bottom  of  a  niche  made  on  purpose 
to  contain  it.  We  then  climbed  a  perpendicular  ladder, 
passing  through  a  hole  in  the  ceiling  barely  large  enough  to 
admit  our  bodies,  and  found  ourselves  at  the  entrance  of  a 
narrow,  lofty  passage  leading  upwards.  When  all  had 
made  the  ascent  the  guides  exultingly  lifted  their  lamps 
and  directed  our  eyes  to  the  rocks  overhanging  the  aperture. 
There  was  the  first  wonder,  truly !  Clusters  of  grapes 
gltaming  with  blue  and  violet  tints  through  the  water 
wnich  trickled  over  them,  hung  from  the  cliffs,  while  a 
stout  vine,  springing  from  the  base  and  climbing  nearly  to 
the  top,  seemed  to  support  them.     Huudi-eds  on  hundred« 


214  AT  HOMB  AND  ABROAD. 

of  bunches  clustering  so  thickly  as  to  conceal  the  leavefl, 
hang  for  ever  ripe  and  for  ever  unplucked  in  that  marveUoua 
vintage  of  the  subterranean  world.  For  whose  hand  shall 
squeeze  the  black,  infernal  wine  from  the  grapes  that  grow 
beyond  Lethe  ? 

Mounting  for  a  short  distance,  this  new  avenue  suddenly 
turned  to  the  left,  widened,  and  became  level ;  the  ceiling  in 
low,  but  beautifully  vaulted,  and  Washington's  Hall,  which 
we  soon  reached,  is  circular,  and  upwards  of  a  hundred  feet 
m  diameter.  This  is  the  usual  dining-room  of  parties  who 
go  beyond  the  rivers.  Nearly  five  hours  had  now  elapsed 
since  we  entered  the  cave,  and  five  hours  spent  in  that 
bracing,  stimulating  atmosphere  might  well  justify  the 
longing  glances  which  we  cast  upon  the  baskets  carried  by 
the  guides.  Mr.  MiUer  had  foreseen  our  appetites,  and 
there  were  stores  of  venison,  biscuit,  ham,  and  pastry,  more 
than  sufficient  for  all.  We  made  our  mid-day  or  rather  mid- 
night .meal  sitting,  like  the  nymph  who  wrought  Excalibur, 

**  Upon  the  hidden  bases  of  the  hills," 

buried  far  below  the  green  Kentucky  forests,  far  below  the 
forgotten  sunshine.  For  in  the  cave  you  forget  that  there 
is  an  outer  world  somewhere  above  you.  The  hours  have 
no  meaning :  Time  ceases  to  be :  no  thought  of  labor,  no 
ense  of  responsibility,  no  twinge  of  conscience,  intrudes  to 
suggest  the  existence  you  have  left.  You  walk  "n  some 
limbo  beyond  the  confines  of  actual  life,  yet  no  nearer  the 
world  of  spirits.  For  my  part  I  could  not  shake  off  the 
mipresfflon  that  I  was  wandering  on  the  <yutside  of  Urana? 


TH£;  MAMMOTH   CAME.  fM 

or  Neptune,  or  some  planet  still  more  deej-iy  buried  in  the 
frontier  darkness  of  our  solar  system. 

Washington  Hall  marks  the  commencement  of  Elindo 
Avenue,  a»  straight  hall  about  sixty  feet  wide,  twenty  in 
height,  and  two  miles  long.  It  is  completely  incrusted  from 
end  to  end  with  crystallizations  of  gypsum,  white  as  snow 
This  is  the  crowning  marvel  of  the  cave,  the  pride  and  the 
boast  of  the  guides.  Their  satisfaction  is  no  less  than 
yours,  as  they  lead  you  through  the  diamond  grottoes, 
the  gardens  of  sparry  efflorescence,  and  the  gleaming 
vaults  of  this  magical  avenue.  We  first-  entered  the 
"Snow-ball  Room,"  where  the  gnome-children  in  their 
sports  have  peppered  the  gray  walls  and  ceiling  with 
thousands  of  snow-white  projecting  discs,  so  perfect  in 
their  fragile  beauty,  that  they  seem  ready  to  melt  away 
under  the  blaze  of  your  lamp.  Then  commences  Cleveland's 
Cabinet,  a  gallery  of  crystals,  the  richness  and  variety  of 
which  bewilder  you.  It  is  a  subterranean  conservatory, 
filled  with  the  .flowers  of  all  the  zones ;  for  there  are  few 
blossoms  expanding  on  the  upper  earth  but  are  mimicked 
in  these  gardens  of  Darkness.  I  cannot  lead  you  from 
niche  to  niche,  and  from  room  to  room,  examining  in  detail 
the  enchanted  growths ;  they  are  all  so  rich  and  so  wonder- 
ful that  the  memory  does  not  attempt  to  retain  them. 
Sometimes  the  hard  limestone  rock  is  changed  into  a 
parterre  of  white  roses ;  sometimes  it  is  starred  with 
opening  daisies ;  the  sunflowers  spread  their  flat  discs 
and  rayed  leaves ;  the  feathery  chalices  of  the  cactus  hang 
from  the  clefts ;  the  night-blooming  cereus  opens  securely 
ner  snowy  cup,  for  the  morning  never  comes  to  close  it; 


216  AT  HOME   AND   ABBOAI>. 

the  tulip  is  here  a  virgin,  and  knows  not  that  her  usten 
above  are  clothed  in  the  scarlet  of  shame. 

In  many  places  the  ceiling  is  covered  with  a  mammary 
crystallization,  as  if  a  myriad  bubbles  were  rising  beneath 
its  glittering  surface.  Even  on  this  jewelled  soil  which 
sparkles  all  around  you,  grow  the  lilies  and  roses,  singly 
overhead,  but  clustering  together  towards  the  base  of  the 
vault,  where  they  give  place  to  long,  snowy,  pendulous  cac- 
tus-flowers, which  droop  Uke  a  fringe  around  diamonded 
niches.  Here  you  see  the  passion-flower,  with  its  curiously 
curved  pistils ;  there  an  iris  with  its  lanceolate  leaves ;  and 
again,  bunches  of  celery  with  stalks  white  and  tender  enough 
for  a  fairy's  dinner.  There  are  occasional  patches  of  gyp- 
sum, tinged  of  a  deep  amber  color  by  the  presence  of  iron. 
Through  the  whole  length  of  the  avenue  there  is  no  cessa- 
tion of  the  wondrous  work.  The  pale  rock-blooms  burst 
forth  everywhere,  crowding  on  each  other  until  the  brittle 
sprays  cannot  bear  their  weight,  and  they  fall  to  the  floor. 
The  slow,  silent  efflorescence  still  goes  on,  as  it  has  done 
for  ages  in  that  buried  tropic. 

What  mostly  struck  me  in  my  underground  travels  was 
the  evidence  of  design  which  I  found  everywhere.  Why 
should  the  forms  of  the  Earth's  outer  crust,  her  flowers  and 
fruits,  the  very  heaven  itself  which  spans  her,  be  so  wonder- 
fully reproduced  ?  What  laws  shape  the  blossoms  and  the 
foliage  of  that  vast  crystalline  garden  ?  There  seemed  to 
be  something  more  than  the  accidental  combinations  of  a 
blind  Chance  in  what  I  saw — some  evidence  of  an  informing 
and  directing  Will.  In  the  secret  caverns,  the  agencies 
which  produced  their  wonders  have  been  at  work  for  thou 


THE  MAMMOTH    CA>£.  217 

aands  of  years,  perhaps  thousands  of  ages,  fashioning  the 
sparry  splendors  in  the  womb  of  darkness  with  as  exquisite 
a  grace,  as  true  an  instinct  of  beauty  as  in  the  palm  or  the 
lily,  which  are  moulded  by  the  hands  of  the  sun.  What 
power  is  it  which  lies  behind  the  mere  chemistry  of  Nature, 
mpregnatiug  her  atoms  with  such  subtle  laws  of  symmetry  ? 
What  but  the  Divine  Will,  which  first  gave  her  being,  an^ 
which  is  never  weary  of  multiplying  for  Man  the  lessons  of 
His  infinite  wisdoni  ? 

At  the  end  of  Elindo  Avenue  the  floor  sinks,  then  ascends, 
and  is  at  last  blocked  up  by  a  huge  pile  of  large,  loose  rocks. 
When  we  had  reached  the  foot,  the  roof  of  the  avenue  sud- 
denly lifted  and  expanded,  and  the  summit  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  as  they  are  called,  leaned  against  a  void  waste 
of  darkness.  We  climbed  to  the  summit,  about  a  hundred 
feet  above,  whence  we  looked  down  into  an  awful  gul^ 
spanned  far  above  our  heads  by  a  hollow  dome  of  rock. 
The  form  of  this  gigantic  hall  was  nearly  elliptical.  It  was 
probably  150  feet  in  height  by  500  in  length,  the  ends  ter- 
minating near  the  roof  in  the  cavernous  mouths  of  other 
avenues.  The  guides  partly  descended  the  hill  and  there 
kindled  a  brilliant  Bengal  light,  which  disclosed  more  clear- 
ly the  form  of  the  hall,  but  I  thought  it  more  impressive  a^ 
its  stupendous  proportions  were  first  dimly  revealed  by  the 
light  of  our  lamps.  Stephen,  who  discovered  this  place, 
gave  it  the  name  of  the  "Dismal  HoUow." 

Scrambling  along  the  ridge  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  we 
gained  the  entrance  to  the  cavern  opening  on  the  left,  which 
we  followed  for  about  two  hundred  yards,  when  it  termi- 
nated in  a  lofty  circular  dome,  called  Croghan's  Hall.     The 


218  AT  HOMB  ANT*   ABBOAD. 

floor  on  one  gide  dropped  suddenly  into  a  deep  pit,  around 
which  were  several  cushions  of  stalagmite,  answering  to 
short  stalactites,  hanging  from  the  ceiling  far  above.  At 
the  extremity  of  the  hall  was  a  sort  of  recess,  formed  by 
stalactitic  pillars.  The  wall  behind  it  was  a  mass  of  veined 
alabaster.  "  Here,"  said  Stephen,  "  is  your  Ultima  Thule. 
This  is  the  end  of  the  Mammoth  Cave,  nine  miles  from  day- 
light." But  I  doubt  whether  there  is  really  an  end  of  the 
cave  any  more  than  an  end  of  the  earth.  Notwithstanding 
the  ground  we  had  traversed,  we  had  left  many  vast  avenues 
unexplored,  and  a  careful  search  would  no  doubt  lead  to 
further  discoveries. 

We  retraced  our  steps  slowly  along  Elindo  Avenue, 
stopping  every  few  minutes  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  bowers 
of  fairy  blossoms.  After  reaching  Washington's  Hall  we 
noticed  that  the  air  was  no  longer  still,  but  was  blowing 
fresh  and  cool  in  our  faces.  Stephen  obsei-ved  it  also,  and 
said:  "There  has  been  a  heavy  rain  outside."  Entering 
the  pass  of  El  Ghor  again  at  Martha's  Vineyard,  we  walked 
rapidly  forward,  without  making  a  halt,  to  its  termination  at 
Silliman's  Avenue.  The  distance  is  reckoned  by  the  guides 
at  a  little  more  than  a  mile  and  a  half,  and  we  were  just 
forty  minutes  in  walking  it.  We  several  times  felt  fatigue, 
especially  when  passing  the  rougher  parts  of  the  cave,  but 
the  sensation  always  passed  away  in  some  unaccountable 
manner,  leaving  us  fresh  and  buoyant.  The  crossing  of 
the  rivers  was  accomplished  with  some  labor,  but  without 
accident.  I  accompanied  Stephen  on  his  return  through 
the  second  arch  of  Echo  River.  As  I  sat  alone  in  the 
Drow,  gliding  under  the  low  vaults  of  rock  and  over  the 


THS  MAMMOTH   CATS.  Sit 

silent,  transparent  darkness  of  the  mysterious  stream,  1 
could  hear  the  tones  of  my  boatman's  voice  gliding  down 
the  caverns  like  a  wave,  flowing  more  and  more  faintly 
until  its  vibrations  were  too  weak  to  move  the  ear.  ThuSj 
as  he  sang,  there  were  frequently  three  or  four  notes,  each 
distinctly  audible,  floating  away  at  different  degrees  of 
remoteness.  At  the  last  arch  there  was  only  a  space  of 
eighteen  inches  between  the  water  and  the  rock.  We  lay 
down  on  our  backs  in  the  muddy  bottom  of  the  boat,  and 
squeezed  through  to  the  middle  branch  of  Echo  River, 
where  we  found  the  rest  of  the  party,  who  had  gone  round 
through  Purgatory. 

After  again  threading  Fat  Man's  Misery,  passing  ilie 
Bottomless  Pit  and  the  Deserted  Chambers,  we  at  last 
emerged  into  the  Main  Avenue  at  the  Giant's  Coffin.  It 
was  six  o'clock,  and  we  had  been  ten  hours  in  the  Ciwve, 
but  as  my  party  proposed  leaving  on  the  morrow,  I  deter- 
mined to  push  my  journey  a  little  further,  and  to  visit  the 
Chief  City  at  the  end  of  the  Main  Avenue.  This  was  the 
principal  object  of  curiosity  before  the  discovery  of  the 
rivers,  but  is  now  rarely  visited.  I  took  leave  of  the  party, 
and  with  Stephen  for  a  guide  started  off  alone.  "We  passed 
the  Star  Chamber,  beyond  which  no  path  has  been  cleared 
m  this  direction.  The  floor  is  covered  with  loose  rocka 
which  have  fallen  from  above,  and  walking  becomes  a  very 
rough  and  laborious  process.  A  portion  of  the  avenue  is 
oalled  the  Salt  Room,  from  the  crystals  of  pure  glauber 
salts  which  fall  from  the  ceiling  in  flakes,  and  cover  the 
floor  Uke  a  light  snow. 

Just  one  mile  from  the  Star  Chamber  a  rough  stone 


220  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

cross  lias  been  erected,  to  denote  that  the  distance  ha» 
been  carefully  measured.  The  floor  here  rises  considerably 
which  contracts  the  dimensions  of  the  avenue,  although 
they  are  still  on  a  grand  scale.  About  half  a  mile  further 
we  came  to  the  Great  Crossings,  where  five  avenues  meet 
[n  the  dim  light  it  resembled  the  interior  of  a  great  cathe* 
dral,  whose  arched  roof  is  a  hundred  feet  above  its  pave 
ment.  Turning  to  the  left,  at  right  angles  to  our  formei 
direction,  we  walked  (still  following  the  Main  Avenue) 
some  ten  minutes  further,  when  the  passage  debouched  into 
a  spacious  hall,  with  a  cascade  pouring  from  the  very  sum- 
mit of  its  lofty  dome.  Beyond  and, adjoining  it  was  a 
second  hall,  of  nearly  equal  dimensions,  with  another  cas- 
cade falling  from  its  roof.  We  turned  again  to  the  right, 
finding  the  avenue  still  mqre  irregular  and  contracted  than 
before,  but  had  not  advanced  far  before  its  ceiling  began 
to  rise,  showing  a  long  slope  of  loosely-piled  rocks,  lying  in 
strong  relief  against  a  background  of  unfathomable  darkness. 
I  climbed  the  rocks  and  sat  down  on  the  highest  pinnacle, 
while  Stephen  descended  the  opposite  side  of  the  slope 
and  kindled  two  or  three  Bengal  lights  which  he  had  saved 
for  the  occasion.  It  needed  a  stronger  illumination  than 
our  two  lamps  could,  afford  to  enable  me  to  comprehend 
the  stupendous  dimensions  of  this  grandest  of  underground 
chambers.  I  will  give  the  figures,  but  they  convey  only  a 
taint  idea  of  its  colossal  character:  length,  800  feet; 
breadth,  300  feet;  height,  120  feet;  area,  between  four 
and  five  acres.  Martin's  picture  of  Satan's  Council-Hall  in 
Pandemonium  would  hai'dly  seem  exaggerated  if  offered 
as  a  representation  of  the  Chief  City,  so  far  and  vanishing 


THE  MAMMOTH   CAVE.  221 

16  the  jjerspective  of  its  extremities,  so  tremendous  th€ 
span  of  its  gigantic  dome. 

I  sat  upon  the  summit  of  the  hill  until  the  last  fires  had 
burned  out,  and  the  hall  became  even  more  vast  and  awful 
in  the  waning  light  of  our  lamps.  Then  taking  a  last  look 
backwards  through  the  arch  of  the  avenue — to  my  mind 
the  most  impressive  view — we  returned  to  the  halls  of  the 
cascades.  Stephen  proposed  showing  me  the  Fairy  Grotto, 
which  was  not  far  off,  and  to  accomplish  that  end  I  per- 
formed a  grievous  amount  of  stooping  and  crawling  in 
the  solitary  cave.  The  grotto,  which  is  a  dehcate  stalactitic 
chamber  resembling  a  Gothic  oratory,  was  very  picturesque 
and  elegant,  and  I  did  not  regret  the  trouble  I  had  taken 
to  reach  it.  Both  of  us  were  somewhat  fatigued  by  this 
time,  however ;  we  were  trenching  upon  the  night  hours, 
and  beginning  to  feel  symptoms  of  hunger,  so  we  here 
turned  about,  and  resumed  the  most  direct  way  to  the 
mouth  of  the  cave. 

When  we  heard  the  tinkling  drops  of  the  little  cascade 
over  the  entrance,  I  looked  up  and  saw  a  patch  of  deep, 
tender  blue  set  in  the  darkness.  In  the  midst  of  it  twinkled 
a  white  star — whiter  and  more  dazzling  than  any  star  I 
ever  saw  before.  I  paused  and  drank  at  the  trough  under 
the  waterfall,  foi*,  like  the  Fountain  of  Trevi  at  Rome,  it 
may  be  that  those  who  drink  there  shall  return  again 
When  we  ascended  to  the  level  of  the  upper  world  we 
found  that  a  fierce  tornado  had  passed  along  during  the 
flay ;  trees  had  been  torn  up  by  the  roots  and  hurled  down 
in  all  directions ;  stunning  thunders  had  jarred  the  air,  and 
the  wet  earth  was  fiiirly  paved  with  leaves  cut  o£F  by  the 


222  AT  HOME  Aim  ABBOAD. 

heavy  hail — yet  we,  buried  in  the  heart  of  the  hills,  had 
heard  no  sound,  nor  felt  the  slightest  tremor  in  the  air. 

The  stars  were  all  in  their  places  as  I  walked  back  to  the 
hotel.  I  had  been  twelve  hours  under  ground,  in  which 
time  I  had  walked  about  twenty-four  miles.  I  had  lost  a 
day — a  day  with  its  joyous  morning,  its  fervid  noon,  its 
tempest,  and  its  angry  sunset  of  crimson  and  gold ;  but  I 
had  gained  an  age  in  a  strange  and  hitherto  unknown 
world — an  age  of  wonderful  experience,  and  an  exhaustless 
store  of  sublime  and  lovely  memories. 


Before  retiring  to  rest  1  engaged  one  of  the  servants  to 
give  me  a  grooming  after  the  manner  of  the  Orientals, 
finishing  with  an  external  application  of  Kentucky  whiskey, 
in  consequence  whereof  I  arose  the  next  morning  at  sun- 
rise without  the  least  soreness  or  fatigue.  Stephen,  not- 
withstanding his  labors,  and  the  prospect  of  their  repetition 
the  same  day,  was  up  and  in  readiness  to  accompany  me  to 
White's  Cave,  which  is  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  from 
ihe  Hotel  in  a  south-western  direction.  It  was  discovered 
in  1 805  by  one  of  the  saltpetre  miners,  after  whom  it  was 
named.  Tlie  entrance  is  a  narrow  opening  in  the  side  of  a 
knoll  studded  with  gray  limestone  rocks. 

We  crawled  into  the  hole,  which  might  have  been  a 
panther's  lair  in  former  times.  The  floor  speedily  drops, 
BO  that  we  were  able  to  stand  upright.  Two  stout  pillara 
of  stalactite  upheld  the  roof,  and  the  light  of  our  lamps 
showed  us  a  row  of  similar  pillars  stretching  away  into  the 


THS  MAMMOTH    CAYS.  228 

darkness.  This  is  the  striking  feature  of  the  Cave,  which 
is  not  more  than  six  or  seven  hundred  feet  in  length  by 
tifty  to  eighty  in  breadth.  There  is  a  dyke  in  the  limeston«» 
rock  which  forms  the  ceiling,  crossing  the  cave  obliquely 
from  one-  end  to  the  other.  The  water,  oozing  through 
has  gradually  built  a  row  of  reeded  Gothic  pillars,  singly 
or  in  clusters,  with  pedestals  of  stalagmite  between ;  and 
sometimes  broad  curtains  of  semi-translucent  stone_hang 
from  one  to  the  other.  The  work  is  still  going  on,  and 
apparently  with  great  rapidity,  for  new  points  were  already 
formed  on  stalactites  which  had  been  broken  off  some  years 
ago.  The  water  which  dripped  into  the  hollow  basins  in 
the  floor  was  so  wonderfully  transparent  as  to  be  almost 
invisible,  and  it  needed  measurement  to  convince  me  that 
some  of  the  pools  which  appeared  to  be  only  three  inches 
in  depth  were  actually  as  many  feet. 

Beyond  this  colonnade  we  found  another  and  a  shorter 
one,  striking  it  obliquely,  at  one  end  of  which  is  the  most 
remarkable  stalactite  formation  I  ever  beheld.  It  was  a 
perfect  tent,  about  eight  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base,  with 
a  height  of  twenty  feet.  The  interior  is  hollow,  and  the 
smooth  incrustations  hanging  from  the  top  fall  around  you 
in  folds  like  those  of  loose  canvas,  with  a  broad  fi'inge 
sweeping  the  floor.  Stephen  gave  it  no  name,  but  it  might 
])propriately  be  called  the  Tent  of  the  Gnomes.  Near  the 
nd  of  the  main  line  of  pillars  is  a  mass  of  fluted  and  chan 
nelled  stalactite  eight  feet  in  breadth,  which  he  called  the 
Temple  of  Diana.  It  has  a  faint  resemblance  to  a  Grecian 
fa9ade.  N"ear  this  the  floor  suddenly  terminates,  leaving 
a  yawning  pit  whose  opposite  side  ascends  steeply  to  tht 


224  A'l'    HOME    ANE    ABROAD. 

fretted  ceiling,  closing  up  the  eave.  The  place  is  '*ell 
worthy  of  a  visit  on  account  of  the  variety  and  beauty  of  its 
stalactilic  formations,  which  far  surpass  those  of  the  Mam- 
moth Cave. 

During  our  stay  at  the  hotel  the  carriage  had  beei 
brought  in  and  repaired,  our  horses  were  thoroughly  re 
cruited.  and  we  now  prepared  to  leave,  regretting  the  neces- 
sity which  did  not  allow  us  to  spend  a  few  days  longer 
under  its  pleasant  roof.  Mr.  Miller,  the  kindest  and  most 
genial  of  landlords,  was  about  setting  out  for  Louisville, 
and  offered  to  be  our  guide  by  a  near  way  over  the  hills  to 
Munfordsville.  Before  taking  a  final  leave  of  the  Mam- 
moth Cave,  however,  let  me  assure  those  who  have  followed 
me  through  it,  that  no  description  can  do  justice  to  its 
sublimity,  or  present  a  fair  picture  of  its  manifold  wonders. 
It  is  the  greatest  natural  curiosity  I  have  ever  visited,  Nia- 
gara not  excepted,  and  he  whose  expectations  are  not  satis 
fied  by  its  marvellous  avenues,  domes,  and  sparry  grottoes, 
must  be  either  a  fool  or  a  demigod.  Yet  very  few  compa 
ratively  of  those  who  travel  in  the  West  ever  find  their  way 
to  it.  The  number  of  visitors  averages  about  two  thousand 
a  year,  the  greater  part  of  whom  are  Kentuckians,  Tennes- 
seans,  and  foreigners. 

An  erroneous  impression  has  gone  abroad  with  regard  to 
the  facilities  for  crossing  the  subterranean  rivers.  The 
timid  are  scared  by  stories  of  parties  being  imprisoned 
beyond  the  Styx  by  a  sudden  rise  of  the  water,  and  kept 
in  peril  of  a  lingering  death.  There  is  no  possibility  of 
any  such  accident  occurring.  The  rivers  rise  slowly,  and 
do  not  reach  a  height  sufficient  to  make  the  arches  impas 


THB  MAMMOTH   CATB.  225 

sable  more  than  twice  or  thrice  in  a  year.  At  such  times 
visitors  are  not  allowed  to  proceed  beyond  them ;  but  even 
at  their  highest  point  there  is  always  an  opening  througl: 
Purgatory,  communicating  with  the  transfluvial  avenue* 
♦vhich  the  water  never  fiUs.  It  may  add  to  the  interest  of 
narrative  to  depict  the  risk  of  being  cut  off  by  the  water 
and  left  to  starve,  but  in  other  respects  it  is  simply  ridicu 
lous.  From  the  discovery  of  the  Cave  to  the  present  time 
CO  fatal  accident  has  ever  occurred. 

Owing  to  the  rise  in  the  rivers,  we  did  not  succeed  in 
procuring  any  eyeless  fish,  which  are  only  found  at  low 
water.  Mat  caught  a  few  crawfish,  which,  like  their  finny 
companions,  have  neither  eyes  nor  rudimentary  hints  ol 
eyes.  In  other  particulars  they  did  not  appear  to  differ 
much  from  the  ordinary  crawfish  of  our  country  streams. 
In  the  Solitary  Cave  I  found  crickets  of  large  size,  with 
very  diminutive  eyes,  which,  however,  did  not  appear  to 
possess  the  faculty  of  vision.  I  menaced  them  repeatedly 
with  my  finger  without  disturbing  them  in  the  least,  but  if 
I  touched  one  of  their  long  antennae  ever  so  lightly,  they 
scampered  off  in  great  alarm.  There  are  rats  in  some  of 
the  chambers,  but  they  are  probably  vagrants,  attracted  bv 
the  dinnjrs  of  visiting  parties,  and  not  permanent  inha 
bitants. 


XIX. 

MACKINAW,  AND   THE   LAKES. 

[1866.] 


By  some  coincidence  or  fatality  I  never  visit  St.  Loois,  oi 
Springfield,  111.,  without  taking  rain  with  me.  When  I  left 
the  former  city,  on  the  morning  of  the  17th  of  May,  the 
streets  were  full  of  mud  and  the  sky  dark  and  leaky.  As 
we  reached  Alton  the  rain  began  to  fall  vigorously,  bright- 
ening the  green  of  the  prairies  over  which  we  sped,  it  is 
true,  but  shutting  in  their  horizon,  so  that  we  had  all  of 
their  monotony  with  none  of  their  glorious  expansion. 
Springfield,  which  we  reached  in  due  time,  was  in  a  state 
that  recalled  my  Winter's  experiences — including  loss  of 
overslioes.  I  made  no  allusion  to  the  fact,  however;  for  I 
have  already  discovered  that  you  cannot  touch  up  a  West- 
em  town  or  railroad,  even  in  a  jocular  way,  without  excit- 
ing some  rampant  local  prejudice  and  supei'fluous  indigna- 
tion.     In  the  West  all  the  traits  of  our  national  character 


MACKmAW,  AKB   THE  LAKES.  <     221 

are  intensified — ^its  energy,  its  impulsiveness,  its  independ 
ence,  its  aggressiveness,  its  ambition,  and  its  sensitiveness. 
I  remember  hearing  Sir  Henry  Bulwer  once  say  that  nQ 
man  was  more  skilful  in  turning  a  penny  than  a  Yankee, 
and  none  more  splendid  in  squandering  a  guinea.  This  is 
still  more  true  of  the  Western  man  than  of  the  New-Eng- 
lander;  but  the  former — to  his  credit  be  it  spoken — has 
much  less  of  the  chaffering  and  huckstering  spirit  than  the 
latter.  The  taint  of  selfishness  which  characterizes  all 
money-making  operations  is  less  apparent :  his  ventures  are 
bolder,  his  habits  more  free  and  liberal.  It  is  a  milder 
form  of  the  same  business-life  which  I  found  in  California  in 
1849  ;  and  this  is  probably  one  reason  of  the  charm  which 
Western  life  exercises  upon  nearly  all  who  come  within  its 
influence. 

I  must  do  Spiingfield  the  justice  to  say  that  it  has  its 
sunshiny  side,  when  the  mud  dries  up  with  magical  rapidity 
and  its  level  streets  become  fair  to  look  upon.  The  clouds 
cleared  away  on  the  morning  after  my  arrival,  and  when 
my  friend.  Captain  Diller,  took  me  to  the  cupola  of  the 
State-House  and  showed  me  the  wide  ring  of  cultivated 
prairie,  dotted  with  groves  of  hickory,  sugar-maple,  and  oak, 
which  inspheres  the  capital  of  Suckerdom,  I  confessed  that 
it  was  a  sight  to  be  proud  of.  The  young  green  of  the 
woods  and  the  promising  wheat-fields  melted  away  gradu- 
ally into  blue,  until  the  fronts  of  distant  farm-houses  shono 
in  the  morning  sun  like  the  sails  of  vessels  in  the  ofiing. 
The  wet  soil  of  the  cornfields  resembled  patches  of  black 
velvet — recalling  to  my  mind  the  dark,  prolific  loam  of  the 
Nile  Valley. 


228  AT  HOME  AND  ABKOAD. 

I  left  ill  the  midnight  train  for  Chicago.  At  Blcoming 
ton,  which  we  reached  at  2  a.m.,  our  conductor  left  us ; 
but  his  substitute  did  not  make  his  appearance.  The  train 
waited,  the  passengers  grew  impatient,  but  nobody  knew 
where  the  gentleman  lodged;  there  was  no  one  in  the 
office  WQO  cared  to  look  after  the  matter;  the  engineer 
said  it  was  not  his  business,  and  so  the  train  still  waited. 
After  a  strong  remonstrance  from  some  passengers  who 
were  bound  east  and  feared  to  lose  the  morning  trains 
from  Chicago,  a  man  was  sent  to  search  for  the  conductor, 
but  he  returned  unsuccessful.  Finally,  at  daybreak,  after 
a  delay  of  two  hours  and  a  quarter,  the  missing  man 
appeared — ^having  overslept  his  time.  He  remarked,  jo- 
cosely, "You've  been  waiting,  I  guess,"  and  started  the 
train.  But,  owing  to  the  delay,  we  met  the  down  train  in 
the  centre  of  a  wide  prairie,  backed  ten  or  twelve  miles  to 
switch  off,  waited  for  a  Rock  Island  train  at  Joliet,  and 
came  into  Chicago  about  noon — ^losing  the  morning  trains 
and  obliging  the  Eastern  travellers  to  spend  their  Sunday 
in  Cleveland  instead  of  Xew  York. 

The  difference  of  season  between  St.  Louis  and  Chicago 
is  very  apparent.  We  left  the  trees  in  summer  foliage  at 
the  former  place,  and  watched  the  green  gradually  grow 
paler  and  paler,  until,  on  the  shore  of  Lake  Michigan,  only 
the  buds  of  the  earliest  trees  were  open,  and  their  leaves 
half-grown.  The  great  prairie  between  Bloomington  and 
Vermilion  River  was  spread  out  flat  to  the  horizon  like  a 
green  ocean,  sprinkled  with  flakes  of  pink  and  blue  and 
golden  and  crimson  foam.  It  was  a  great  contrast  to  the 
dreary,  brown  expanse  I  had  looked  upon  daring  the 


MA.CKIKAW,    AND   THE   LAKES.  229 

winter.  But  a  prairie  cannot  be  properly  appreciated 
from  the  window  of  a  railroad  car.  I  longed  for  the  little 
black  Arab  of  Newark,  Ohio,  or  the  gray  Morgan  of 
Dixon,  to  career  across  its  flowery  solitude,  chasing  the 
flying  horizon.  Give  me  a  jirau-ie  for  a  race-course  or  a 
hunting-ground;  but  not — ^though  it  yield  me  150  bushde 
of  com  per  acre — ^for  a  habitation ! 

Having  already  tried  every  railroad  leading  out  of  Chi 
cago,  I  determined  to  return  home  by  the  Lakes.  The 
steamers  on  the  new  route  to  Collingwood  and  Toronto 
had  just  commenced  running,  and  offered  the  greatest 
inducements  in  the  way  of  scenery ;  so  we  took  passage 
on  the  "  Queen  City,"  and  left  Chicago  at  a  late  hour  on 
Sunday  evening,  the  20th.  The  boat,  which  was  a  fleet 
and  handsome  steamer,  newly  fitted  up  for  the  season,  was 
not  crowded,  and  we  secured  pleasant  state-rooms  in  the 
after  cabin.  We  found  intelligent  and  amiable  officers,  an 
attentive  steward,  a  good  table,  and  all  other  requisites  to 
the  enjoyment  of  a  lake  voyage,  and  were  favored,  in  addi- 
tion, with  the  smoothest  water  and  the  clearest  skies. 

When  I  awoke  next  morning,  we  were  in  Milwaukee 
River.  Here  the  boat  was  detained  a  day  in  order  to  take 
in  freight ;  and  I  had  the  opportunity  of  revisiting  some 
Wisconsin  friends.  The  stay  was  made  fortunate  by  at 
unexpected  meeting  with  two  shipmates  of  the  Japan 
Expedition  ;  and  I  heard  the  adventurous  youth  who 
climbed  with  me  the  precipices  of  the  Bonin  Islands 
relate  his  more  perilous  feat  of  scaling  the  walls  of  Nan- 
king and  astonishing  the  Chinese  rebels.  In  the  evening 
it  was  discovered  that  the  boiler  had  sprung  a  leak,  and 


MO  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

that  the  necessary  repairs  would  detain  us  another  day— 
a  delay  which  none  of  us  regretted.  Milwaukee  is  as 
pleasant  a  place  to  visit  as  it  is  beautifUl  to  look  upon. 
Seen  from  the  hills  in  the  reai",  with  its  pale  yellow  houses 
rising  against  the  blue  of  the  lake,  it  is  a  copy,  in  cooler 
tints,  of  some  town  on  the  Mediterranean  shores. 

As  I  was  sauntering  down  to  the  boat  on  the  second 
evening  I  was  overtaken  by  an  African  gentleman  of  pecu- 
liar blackness  and  purity  of  race.  He  accosted  me — de- 
siring to  know  where  the  raailboat  from  Chicago  came  in. 
I  pointed  out  what  I  supposed  to  be  the  place,  whereupon 
he  drew  near  and  commenced  a  more  confidential  conversa- 
tion. "  I'm  gwine  down  to  the  boat,"  said  he,  "  'cause  of 
a  lady  and  gentleman.  De  gentleman  I  seed  a  while  ago 
in  de  street ;  de  lady — she's  coming  in  de  boat.  I'se  bound 
to  be  dar  when  de  lady  comes."  Supposing  he  had  been 
dispatched  by  some  gentleman  to  meet  au  expected  guest, 
I  asked,  "  Will  you  know  the  lady  when  you  see  her  ?  " 
"  Gosh  I "  he  answered,  with  a  grin ;  "  I'se  ought  to  know 
her — she's  my  wife !  She's  comin'  on,  thinkin'  she's  gwine 
for  to  marry  de  gentleman  what  I  seed ;  but  I  tell  you  she 
don't  marry  nobody  else  in  dis  here  State  'ceptin'  myself." 
He  added  that  he  had  only  been  married  three  months,  in 
which  time  she  had  spent  all  his  money,  and  that  he  had 
known  her  intention  of  rimning  away  from  him  a  week 
previous.  "  Well,"  said  I,  "  if  you  knew  it,  why  didn't 
you  take  measures  to  prevent  her  ?  "  "  Oh,"  he  answered, 
chuckling  at  his  own  sagacity ;  "  I  tought  I'd  jist  wait,  and 
»ee  whether  she'd  be  elewated  enough  to  go."  The  other 
gentleman,  ?e  informed  me,  was  in  the  whitewashing  bnm 


MACKINAW,    AND   THE   LAKES.      •  231 

a  ess,  ]>ut — vsdth  a  shake  of  the  head  and  a  display  of  ivory 
— he'd  "spile  dat  gentleman's  'spectorations ;  he'll  make 
no  more  contracts  in  dat  dere  line."  I  regretted  that  I 
(*X)uld  not  await  the  arrival  of  the  boat  and  witness  the 
meeting,  which  must  have  been  still  more  characteristio 
and  diverting. 

We  left  Milwaukee  at  sunrise  on  Wednesday  morning, 
running  northward  along  the  Wisconsm  shore.  The  coun- 
try is  low  and  covered  with  woods  except  where  they  are 
broken  in  upon  by  small  farms,  picketed  here  and  there 
like  the  advanced  sentries  of  that  besieging  civilization 
which  shall  soon  sweep  away  the  serried  ranks  of  the  forest. 
The  pine  becomes  more  frequent,  lifting  its  dark,  ragged 
arms  high  above  the  gray  of  the  budding  birch  and  the 
fidnt  green  of  the  larch.  Ozaukee  or  Port  Washington, 
thirty  miles  north  of  Milwaukee,  appears  to  great  advan- 
tage from  the  lake,  with  its  clusters  of  white  houses  rising 
gradually  from  the  water's  edge  to  the  summit  of  the  low 
hills.  Sheboygan,  which  we  reached  about  noon,  is  a  con- 
siderably larger  and  more  important  place.  It  is  one  of 
the  outlets  of  the  rich  and  growing  country  around  and 
beyond  Lake  Winnebago,  and  is  connected  by  a  plankroad 
with  Fond  du  Lac.  Judging  from  the  number  of  buildings 
in  the  course  of  erection,  it  is  no  exception  to  the  general 
law  of  progress  in  the  West. 

In  the  afternoon  we  touched  at  Manitowoc  and  Two 
Rivers,  both  so  young  that  there  is  barely  ground  enough 
cleared  for  them  to  stand  upon,  and  the  piimitive  forest 
still  shuts  out  their  sunset  view.  There  are  already  stores, 
taverns,  German  lager-beer  srJoons,  and   other  signs  of 


88i  AT   BOilE  AND   ABROAD. 

growth  in  abundance.  The  Michigan  shore,  although  be- 
tween sixty  and  seventy  miles  distant,  was  lifted  into  the 
air  by  a  mirage,  and  distinctly  visible.  This  effect  is  con- 
tinued until  after  sunset ;  and  I  even  saw  Manitou  Island, 
sixty-five  miles  off,  by  moonlight.  The  air  was  clear 
bracing,  and  pure,  but  so  cold  that  I  did  not  venture  on 
deck  without  a  thick  overcoat. 

In  the  morning  we  were  opposite  Beaver  Island,  where  a 
branch  of  the  Mormon  sect  is  colonized.  So  far  as  I  could 
learn  they  are  not  polygamists,  and  are  independent  of  the 
Salt  Lake  organization.  The  Michigan  shores  soon  after- 
wards came  into  sight,  and  a  lighthouse  far  ahead  an- 
nounced our  approach  to  Mackinaw  Straits.  The  country 
on  both  sides  is  densely  covered  with  woods,  which  in 
some  places  were  on  fire,  sending  thick  columns  of  smoke 
mto  the  air.  I  noticed  several  steam  saw-mills,  and  some 
new  frame  houses  standing  in  cleared  spots,  but  the  greater 
part  of  the  coast  is  yet  uninvaded  by  settlers.  Passing  the 
promontory  of  St.  Ignace,  on  the  northern  shore,  we  en- 
tered Lake  Huron,  heading  for  Mackinaw  Island,  which  is 
about  twenty  miles  distant.  The  long  island  of  Bois  Blanc 
lay  to  the  southward.  The  surface  of  the  lake  was  scarcely 
ruifled  by  the  sweet  western  wind ;  the  sky  was  of  a  pale, 
transparent  blue,  and  the  shores  and  islands  were  as  sharply 
and  clearly  defined  as  if  carved  on  a  crystal  tablet.  It  was 
ft  genuine  Northern  realm  we  had  entered — no  warmth,  no 
depth  of  color,  no  undulating  grace  of  outline,  but  bold, 
abrupt,  positive  form,  cold,  pure  brilliancy  of  atmosphere, 
and  an  expression  of  vigor  and  reality  which  would  make 
dreams  impassible.    If  there  is  any  air  in  which  Action  it 


MACKINAW,   AND  THE  LAKBS.  28^ 

the  very  charm  aud  flavor  of  Life,  and  not  its  curse,  it  is 
the  air  of  Mackinaw. 

We  ran  rapidly  up  to  the  town,  which  is  built  at  the  foot 
of  the  bluffs,  on  the  southern  side.  A  fort,  adapted  for 
times  of  peace  and  with  a  small  garrison,  overlooks  it. 
The  houses  are  mostly  of  wood,  scattered  along  the  shore, 
with  few  trees  and  fewer  gardens  interspersed.  The  ap- 
pearance of  the  place  is  nevertheless  very  picturesque,  with 
the  wooded  centre  of  the  island  rising  in  the  rear,  and  the 
precipitous  cliffs  of  gray  rock  flanking  it  on  both  sides. 
The  associations  of  two  centuries  linger  about  those  cliffs, 
and  the  names  of  Hennepin,  La  Salle,  Marquette,  and  other 
pioneers  of  Western  civilization  make  them  classic  ground 
to  the  reader  of  American  history. 

We  remained  five  hours  in  order  to  take  on  some  coal, 
which  two  schooners  were  discharguig  at  the  pier,  I  made 
use  of  the  time  to  stroll  over  the  island  and  visit  its  two 
lions — the  Sugar  Loaf  and  the  Arched  Rock.  The  road, 
after  we  had  passed  through  the  fort,  led  through  woods 
of  budding  birch,  and  the  fragrant  arbor-vitsB  (thuya  occi- 
dentalis),  which  turned  the  air  into  a  resinous  wine,  as 
grateful  to  the  lungs  as  Falernian  to  the  palate.  We 
passed  around  the  foot  of  the  central  hill,  three  hundred 
feet  high,  whereon  are  the  remains  of  the  old  fortifications. 
On  a  terrace  between  it  and  the  eastern  cliffs  stands  the 
Sugar  Loaf — a  pointed,  isolated  rock  seventy  feet  high. 
The  rock,  which  appeared  to  be  secondary  limestone,  is 
honeycombed  by  the  weather,  and  reminded  me  very 
strikingly  of  "Banner  Rock,"  in  the  interior  of  the  island 
of  Loo-Choo.    The  stracture  is  precisely  similar,  and  th« 


284  IT  HOME   A.ND  ABROAD. 

height  very  nearly  the  same.  We  now  struck  across  th« 
woods,  which  abounded  with  anemones  and  white  trilliums 
in  blossom,  to  the  edge  of  the  cliffs,  which  we  followed  for 
some  distance,  catching  occasional  glimpses  through  the 
thick  clumps  of  ai'bor-vitae  of  the  transparent  lake  below 
and  the  Northern  shore,  stretching  away  to  Sault  St. 
Marie  and  Lake  Superior.  The  forests  in  that  direction 
were  burning,  and  the  dense  volumes  of  white  smoke, 
carried  southward  by  the  wind,  blotted  out  the  Eastern 
horizon  for  a  space  of  thirty  or  forty  miles. 

The  Arched  Rock  stands  a  little  apart  from  the  line  of 
the  cliffs,  with  which  it  is  connected  by  a  narrow  ledge. 
It  is  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  forming  a  rude  natural 
portal,  through  which  you  can  look  out  upon  the  lake. 
The  arch  is  ten  feet  thick,  and  in  the  centre  not  more  than 
eighteen  inches  wide.  I  climbed  out  to  the  keystone,  but 
the  rock  was  so  loose  and  disintegrated  that  I  did  not 
venture  to  cross  the  remaining  portion.  On  our  return  to 
the  boat  I  visited  some  Chippewa  families,  who  were  en 
camped  upon  the  beach,  but  as  they  knew  neither  English 
nor  French,  the  conversation  was  limited.  The  water  of 
the  lake  is  clear  as  crystal  and  cold  as  ice,  and  I  had  an 
opportunity  to  verify  the  reports  of  its  marvellous  trans- 
parency. The  bottom  is  distinctly  visible  at  the  depth  of 
from  fifty  to  sixty  feet. 

We  left  Mackinaw  towards  evening,  and  at  sunrise  next 
morning  were  abreast  of  the  Isle  of  Coves,  at  the  entrance 
of  the  Georgian  Bay.  The  islands  which  separate  the  Bay 
from  Lake  Huron  are  rather  low,  but  those  beyond,  lying 
nearer  the  Canada  shore,  rise  abruptly  from  the  water  ir 


MACKINAW,    AND   THE   LAKBS.  285 

jiiffs  of  red  rock,  crowned  with  forests  of  larch  and  pine. 
Alternately  advancing  and  retreating  behind  each  other  as 
we  passed  along  before  them,  they  presented  a  shifting 
diorama  of  the  wildest  ibrms.  The  sky  was  cloudless, 
softened  with  a  slight  haze,  and  the  air  so  cold  that  the 
water  used  in  washing  the  decks  made  icicles  on  the 
guards.  Cabot's  Head,  the  north-eastern  point  of  the 
Canadian  promontory,  terminates  in  a  range  of  precipicea 
two  hundred  feet  high,  back  of  which  the  unbroken  forest 
sweeps  away  into  a  wide,  rolling,  upland  region,  which  is 
said  to  be  an  admirable  wheat  country  wherever  it  has  been 
cleared.  After  passing  the  Head  we  lost  sight  of  the  coast, 
which  trends  southward  for  a  time ;  but  our  attention  was 
called  to  the  steamer  Keystone  State  of  the  CoUingwood 
Line,  which  had  passed  us  at  Milwaukee,  but  which  we 
were  now  rapidly  overhauling.  It  was  not  a  race,  for  the 
Queen  City  had  already  proved  herself  the  swiftest,  but  we 
were  not  unwilling  to  see  her  prove  it  again. 

As  the  Keystone  State  fell  into  our  wake,  the  shore  east 
of  Owen's  Sound  came  into  sight  on  the  right  hand,  and 
Christian's  Sound  on  our  left,  showing  that  we  were  ap- 
proaching the  head  of  the  Bay.  The  distance  from  the  Isle 
of  Coves  to  CoUingwood  is  about  100  miles.  The  southern 
coast  was  still  bold  and  precipitous,  resembling  the  Hudson 
Palisades,  to  within  ten  miles  of  the  latter  place,  when  it 
gradually  sloped  down  to  a  low  country  overgrown  with 
the  densest  of  forests.  The  smokes  of  Spring  clearings 
were  burning  far  and  wide  on  the  hill-sides,  and  as  we 
turned  in  towards  CoUingwood,  the  very  sunshine  was  ob- 
BOured  by  them.    We  entered  the  harbor,  or  rather  road> 


236  AX  HOME  A^D  ABBOAD. 

stead,  cautiously,  sounding  our  way  along  a  narrow  channel^ 
which  has  been  marked  by  buoys,  "between  two  shoals.  The 
town  of  Collingwood,  which  now  contains  about  eighty 
houses,  is  only  a  year  old,  and  most  of  the  lots  are  still  in 
the  primitive  forest.  The  purchaser  may  build  his  shanty 
with  the  timber  he  cuts  off  to  make  room  for  it.  The 
streets  are  full  of  stumps,  the  dwellings  are  of  fresh,  un- 
painted  clapboards,  and  there  is  not  yet  a  hotel  in  the 
place.  The  Ontario,  Simcoe,  and  Huron  Railroad  Company 
have  built  out  a  pier,  with  a  large  storehouse  at  the  extre- 
mity, on  both  sides  of  which  steamers  can  be  moored  and 
tranship  their  passengers  and  freight  directly  into  the  cars. 
In  this  respect  the  arrangements  are  «is  convenient  and 
expeditious  as  could  be  desired. 

We  found  a  train  for  Toronto  in  waiting,  and  as  the 
Keystone  State  arrived  soon  afterwards  with  her  load  of 
passengers,  the  cars  were  overcrowded  until  we  reached 
Barrie.  We  bade  good-bye  to  Capt.  Wilkins,  whom  we 
shall  long  remember  as  one  of  the  kindest  and  most  genial 
of  commanders,  passed  through  the  future  Collingwood, 
and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  were  deep  in  the  heart  of 
the  forest.  The  trunks  of  the  trees  in  many  places  almost 
touched  each  other,  so  thick  was  the  growth,  and  those 
which  had  been  cut  away  to  make  room  for  the  road  were 
piled  up  on  either  hand  to  be  burned.  The  work  had  al- 
ready commenced  here  and  there:  the  huge  logs  were 
masses  of  live  coal  roaring  and  crackling  with  a  mighty 
sound,  while  sheets  of  bright-red  flame  eddied  among  the 
fflnaller  limbs,  and  clouds  of  smoke  swept  around  us,  pour- 
ing into  the  cars  in  stifling  volumes.    As  we  sped  or  at  th« 


MACKINAW,   AND  THE  LAKES.  23^ 

rate  of  thirty  miles  an  hour  through  these  avenues  ot 
flame,  which  tlie  wind  occasionally  hurled  into  our  verj 
faces,  I  felt  ready  to  agree  with  a  rough  fellow,  who  said  in 
plain  Saxon,  "  We're  going  to  Hell,  sure."  The  scene  was 
certainly  infernal  enough  to  justify  the  suspicion. 

After  passing  Barrie,  a  beautiful  town  on  Lake  Simcoe, 
we  entered  a  more  advanced  region.  Clearings  became 
abundant,  and  substantial  farmhouses  replaced  the  piimi- 
tive  shanties.  The  season  changed  also ;  the  willows  were 
in  full  lea^  the  elms  half-fledged,  and  the  maples  cast  an 
entire  shadow.  The  country  was  rich,  undulating,  and 
beautiful,  becoming  more  thickly  settled  as  we  advanced, 
unfrl  having  finished  our  ninety-four  miles  in  three  boin 
»nd  ft  half,  we  reached  Toronto. 


!?* 


XX. 

A    TELEGRAPHIC    TRIP    TO   NEWFOUNDLAND. 

[AUGUST,    1866.] 


L — Haltfax  and  Poet-aux-Basqubs. 

Th«  flteamer  James  Adger,  chartered  by  the  New  Yori 
and  Newfoundland  Telegraph  Company  for  the  purpose  of 
laying  the  submarine  cable  across  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence, 
left  New  York  on  the  7th  of  August.  In  addition  to  Peter 
Cooper,Cyru8  W.  Field,  and  Professor  Morse — the  managers 
of  the  enterprise — and  their  families,  a  large  number  of 
invited  guests,  several  of  whom  were  ladies,  accompanied 
the  expedition.  A  summer  voyage  to  regions  then  so 
little  known  presented  strong  attractions,  and  the  trip 
was  commenced  under  the  most  cheerful  and  agreeable 
auspices.  The  line  of  telegraph  from  New  York  to  St. 
Johns,  which  was  then  nearly  completed,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  submarine  portion,  was  the  precursor  of  the 
Transatlantic  Cable,  and  the  prospect  of  finally  carrying 


A  TELEQBAl'HIC   TRIP   TO   JTEWFOTINDLAin).  239 

out  the  great  undertaking  gave  an  increased  interest  to 
this  initiatory  step. 

A  voyage  of  three  days,  during  which  we  enjoyed  both 
extremes  of  sea-experience — a  cahn  and  a  storm — brought 
us  to  Halifax.     As  Capt.  Turner  designed  taking  on  board 

supply  of  coal,  we  had  three  hours'  leave  of  absence  to 
v.'sit  the  lions  of  the  place.  Our  appearance  created  but 
little  sensation.  Several  gentlemen  who  were  interested  in 
the  Company  came  down  to  greet  Mr.  Field,  and  a  few 
ragged  boys  in  search  of  employment  and  reward  grouped 
about  the  pier-posts ;  but  beyond  these  there  was  neither 
astonishment  nor  curiosity  concerning  us.  No  cry  of 
"  Carriage,  Sir  ?"  greeted  us  from  the  pier ;  no  hotel-runner 
thrust  greasy  cards  into  our  hands ;  no  loafing  idlers  were 
there  to  stare  at  us  or  openly  criticise  our  appearance ;  but 
we  landed  and  walked  up  into  the  town  without  attracting 
more  notice  than  so  many  of  its  own  quiet  denizens.  The 
general  impression  was  that  Halifax  is  a  slow  place.  For 
my  part  I  found  this  Oriental  indifference  quite  refreshing, 
and  was  not  disposed  to  complain  of  it.  It  is  pleasant  to 
find  that  there  are  communities  on  the  American  side  of 
our  globe  which  are  slow  to  become  excited. 

The  town  stretches  along  the  harbor  and  around  the 
foot  of  a  fortified  hill,  and  consists  mainly  of  two  long 
streets  crossed  by  a  number  of  steep  short  ones.  The 
houses  are  dingy  wooden  structures,  interspersed  with  an 
occasional  stone  or  brick  building,  or  a  plain,  dark-colored 
English  church  with  a  tall  spire.  My  companion,  who  was 
a  Briton,  insisted  that  we  had  not  yet  reached  the  principal 
part  of  the  town ;  but  after  passing  the  parade  ground  and 


240  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

the  Govemment  buildings — a  square  pile  of  semi-Grecian 
architecture — ^he  was  forced  to  admit  that  we  had  seen  the 
best  it  had  to  offer.  We  engaged  a  one-horse  carriage — 
the  Halifax  boys  called  it  a  "  conveyance  carriage,"  whence, 
I  suppose,  the  keeper  of  carriages  to  hire  is  a  conveyancer— 
and  ascended  to  Fort  George,  the  citadel.  Another  com 
pany  of  our  passengers  arrived  at  the  same  time  and  were 
boldly  entering,  when  they  were  stopped  on  the  drawbridge 
by  the  sentinel,  who  stated  that  no  one  was  allowed  to  pass 
without  an  order  from  the  Quartermaster-General. 

A  soldier  off  duty  went  around  the  shoulder  of  the  hill 
to  point  out  the  oflSce  of  that  functionary  to  two  of  us, 
who  undertook  to  procure  the  permission.  We  were  for 
tunate  enough  to  meet  the  Deputy-Quartermaster  at  the 
door.  On  making  known  our  desire,  he  at  once  wrote  an 
order  for  the  admittance  of  the  whole  party.  We  crossed 
the  drawbridge,  passed  through  a  heavy  stone  arch  tunnel- 
ling the  ramparts,  and  found  ourselves  in  a  spacious  in- 
closure,  where  two  companies  of  raw  recruits  for  the  siege 
of  Sebastopol  were  going  through  their  drill.  They  were 
mostly  Germans,  and  seemed  anything  but  easy  while  they 
stood  at  ease,  and  not  a  little  disordered  while  they 
ordered  arras.  The  raw  material  was  good  enough,  no 
doubt,  but  it  needed  a  great  amount  of  discipline  to  pro- 
duce from  it  the  solid  English  files — the  bulwarks  of  battle 
One  of  our  company,  who  was  a  clergyman,  took  occasion 
to  make  a  few  remarks  on  the  immorality  of  war  in  general, 
and  the  Eastern  War  in  particular,  to  two  subalterns  who 
were  lounging  on  the  rampart  in  the  shade  of  a  sentry-box 
But.  I  fear  he  was  sowing  seed  on  stony  gronnd. 


A.  TELEGRAPHIC   TRIP   TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  241 

We  mounted  to  the  parapet  and  made  the  circuit  of  the 
tortress,  looking  over  its  coping  on  a  beautiful  picture  of 
Nova-Scotian  scenery.  The  crescent-shaped  town  half  en- 
circled the  hill,  its  extremities  stretching  back  towards  the 
country  in  lines  of  suburban  villas.  The  harbor,  with  Mo- 
Nab's  Island  lying  across  its  mouth,  extended  beyond  the 
town,  sending  a  blue  arm  several  miles  further,  where  it 
bent  out  of  sight  among  woody  hills.  Directly  opposite 
lay  Dartmouth,  a  small  town  of  white  wooden  houses,  with 
a  church  or  two,  and  a  background  of  dark  green  hills, 
partly  clothed  with  forests,  and  their  lower  slopes  dotted 
with  cottages  and  farm-houses.  On  either  side  of  McNab'a 
Island,  over  the  white  line  of  the  ever-foaming  breakers, 
was  an  azure  segment  of  ocean.  Turning  to  the  south 
and  west,  we  looked  inland  across  a  level  of  farm-land,  to 
ranges  of  dark  wooded  hills,  with  scarps  of  white  rock 
jutting  out  here  and  there  along  their  summits.  The  wind 
was  strong,  with  a  cool,  October  tang  ia  it ;  the  dark  hills 
and  the  pale  sky  were  alike  suggestive  of  the  North ;  yet 
the  people  complained  of  the  heat,  and  imagined  themselves 
in  the  midst  of  summer ! 

After  dinner  a  small  party  of  us  went  ashore  to  employ 
the  remaining  hour  and  a  half  in  a  gaUop  into  the  country, 
but  neither  saddle-horse  nor  carriage  was  to  be  had.  "  It 
is  the  first  fair  day  after  a  rain,"  said  the  conveyancers, 
"  and  everybody  is  a  riding'  out."  Finally  we  found  a  man 
who  ofiered  us  the  identical  carriage  in  which  the  Admiral 
had  ridden  that  very  morning,  for  four  dollars;  but  on 
learning  that  we  were  Yankees,  and  did  not  consider  the 
Admiial's  seat  a  peculiar  honor  he  reduced  his  demand  tc 


242  AX  HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

three  dollars.  We  had  a  pair  of  matched  grays  and  a 
ruddy,  red-whiskered  coachman,  and  whirled  out  around 
the  foot  of  the  citadel  in  gallant  style.  A  good  macadd' 
mized  road  conducted  us  out  of  the  town,  where  we  came 
at  once  upon  hay  and  grain  fields.  The  grass  had  just  been 
cut,  and  the  air  was  full  of  its  fragrance.  Wheat  and 
barley  were  in  head,  but  had  not  yet  begun  to  ripen.  A 
drive  of  two  miles,  partly  through  thickets  and  patches  of 
fir  and  larch  trees,  brought  us  to  the  head  of  the  main  arm 
of  the  inner  harbor,  which  is  completely  landlocked.  Sur- 
rounded by  dark  green  hills,  with  not  a  vessel,  and  but 
two  or  three  houses  in  sight,  it  resembled  a  lonely  inland 
lake.  The  sight  of  the  clear,  green  waters  dancing  to  the 
shore  tempted  us  to  leave  the  Admiral's  carriage  and  take 
a  hasty  bath.  The  bottom  was  covered  with  a  growth  of 
brilliant  sea-weed,  whose  branching  streamers  of  purple 
and  emerald  reached  to  my  waist,  threatening  to  drag  me 
down,  like  Hylas,  to  the  Nova-Scotian  naiads ;  but  no  watei 
could  be  more  deliciously  cold  and  invigorating.  By  thi* 
time  it  was  six  o'clock,  and  the  cool  shadows  of  evening 
were  creeping  across  the  landscape.  The  grays  trotted 
merrily  back  along  the  shore-road,  and  we  reached  the  pier 
to  find  the  James  Adger  with  steam  up,  and  all  on  board 
except  the  gentleman  from  Truro. 

We  waited  half  an  hour  longer,  but  the  gentleman  from 
Truro  did  not  come,  notwithstanding  an  express  had  been 
sent  eighteen  miles  into  the  country  to  meet  him.  Mr. 
Field  then  reluctantly  gave  the  order  to  leave.  As  the 
steamer  glided  out  of  the  dock,  the  passengers,  gathered 
on  the  quarter-deck  and  paddle-boxes,  gave  three  parting 


▲  TEXKGEAPHIC  TEIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  248 

cheers.  There  were  a  number  of  persons  on  the  pier,  who 
received  the  salute  with  perfect  equanimity.  We  then 
gave  them  three  times  three,  and  succeeded  in  eliciting  two 
in  return.  An  old  fisherman  of  the  place  profited  by  oiir 
delay  in  disposing  of  two  baskets  of  "  murr's  eggs."  These 
»re  the  eggs  of  a  seafowl  on  the  coast  of  Labrador.  They 
are  about  the  size  of  a  turkey's  egg,  pointed  at  one  end, 
and  of  a  pale-blue  color,  curiously  spotted,  and  streaked 
with  black.  The  fisherman  informed  us  that  "  the  gentry 
eats  'em,"  and  we  had  some  of  them  boiled,  but  after  testing 
the  odor  thereof,  none  of  us  had  courage  to  break  the  shell. 
I  kept  one  as  a  curiosity,  greatly  to  my  embarrassment.  I 
could  not  have  it  boiled,  for  they  crack  in  boiling ;  I  could 
not  pack  it  away,  for  fear  of  smashing  it ;  I  could  neither 
carry  it  about  with  me,  nor  leave  it  in  my  state-room  with- 
out great  risk,  but  was  constantly  troubled  by  it  until  the 
last  day  of  the  voyage,  when  it  was  broken. 

While  in  Halifax  we  obtained  a  pilot  for  Newfoundland : 
a  little,  brown,  wiry,  wide-awake  fellow,  who  had  gathered 
coast-knowledge  in  many  a  tough  north-easter.  His  own 
apparent  self-reliance  inspired  confidence  in  us,  and  we 
sailed  for  the  Land  of  Fogs  with  a  glow  of  cheerful  expec- 
tation. It  was  dusk  before  we  emerged  from  the  harbor,  but 
the  long  northern  twihght  lingered  on  the  borders  of  the 
«ky ;  and,  as  night  deepened,  the  stars  shone  more  brightly 
than  they  ever  shone  before,  to  our  eyes.  The  planet  Jupitei 
cast  a  long  wake  upon  the  sea ;  the  Milky  Way  burned  like 
a  luminous  cloud,  making  pale  the  lustre  of  the  neighboring 
stars ;  while  scarcely  a  minute  elapsed  but  some  meteor 
ihot  across  the  heavens,  leaving  a  silvery  trail  behind  it 


244  AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

There  seemed  not  one  vault  only,  but  deeps  bey  on  l  deeps 
of  glory,  overspanning  each  other  until  the  eye  ceased  to 
follow  them.  The  meteors,  some  far,  swift,  and  faint,  some 
n«  ar  and  dazzling,  fell  from  the  inner  to  the  outer  circle* 
of  the  heavens,  like  telegraphic  messages  between  the 
several  "  spiritual  spheres."  Many  of  our  company  re- 
mained on  deck  till  nearly  midnight,  notwithstanding  the 
cold  northern  wind. 

All  the  next  forenoon  we  ran  along  the  dark  Nova  Sco- 
tian  shores;  the  sea,  the  sky,  and  the  land  were  alike  cheer- 
less and  forbidding,  and  the  air  so  cold  that  we  felt  a  chill 
through  overcoats  and  thick  shawls.  The  coast  was  low 
and  undulating,  covered  with  fir  forests  which  looked  black 
under  the  clouds,  and  faced  with  rugged  rampai*ts  of  gray 
rock.  A  few  fishing  craft  were  hovering  outside  the  break- 
ers, ready  to  run  into  any  sheltered  cove  in  case  the  wind 
should  increase  to  a  gale,  as  it  threatened.  Towards  noon 
we  made  the  light  on  Cape  Canso,  and  shortly  afterwards 
crossed  the  mouth  of  the  Gut  of  Canso,  which  divides  Nova 
Scotia  fi-om  Cape  Breton  Island.  The  coast  of  Cape  Breton 
is  from  six  to  eight  hundred  feet  high,  and  presents  a  bold 
front  to  the  sea.  Its  aspect  is  peculiarly  desolate  on  an 
overcast  day.  In  the  evening,  we  passed  Cape  Pleasant, 
not  more  than  six  miles  ft-om  the  old  harbor  and  town  of 
Louisbourg,  so  famous  in  our  Colonial  history.  The  ruing 
of  the  ancient  French  fortifications  are  still  to  be  seen,  but 
the  trade  of  the  town  has  long  since  been  transferred  to 
Halifax  and  Sydney,  and  it  is  now  almost  deserted.  It  ii 
the  only  spot  in  the  north-east  which  is  prominent  in  oui 
early  history,  and  must  still  be  a  very  interesting  old  place 


A   TELEGRAPHIC   TRIP   TO    NEWFOUNDLAIO).  246 

At  midnight  we  entered  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence.  The 
sky  was  cloudless,  inconceivably  clear  and  radiant,  and  an 
arch  of  white  auroral  fire  spanned  the  northern  horizon. 
It  was  so  brilliant  as  to  cast  a  glow  upon  <he  water,  and  to 
make  the  segment  of  sky  inclosed  within  it  appear  black  by 
contrast.  It  steadily  brightened  until  the  arch  broke,  when 
the  fragments  gathered  into  lustrous  balls,  or  nuclei,  which 
sent  long  streamers  and  dancing  tongues  of  light  almost  to 
the  zenith.  Then  the  whole  pageant  faded  away,  to  be 
reborn  in  the  air,  and  brighten  as  before. 

The  expected  gale  did  not  come,  and  the  next  morning 
was  as  splendidly  clear  as  an  Arctic  midsummer.  We  sailed 
between  two  hemispheres  of  blue,  fanned  by  a  wind  which 
was  a  tonic  to  both  soul  and  body.  The  only  vapor  which 
blurred  the  horizon  was  a  white,  filmy  band,  lying  over  the 
coast  of  Newfoundland,  dead  ahead.  I  saw  the  faint  blue 
loom  of  land  early  in  the  morning,  when  it  must  have  been 
between  thirty  and  forty  miles  distant,  but  the  outline  of 
the  coast  was  not  very  distinct  until  about  nine  o'clock. 
Immediately  after  breakfast  there  were  religious  services  in 
the  after  cabin — prayers  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Spring  and  Mr. 
Sherwood,  and  a  sermon  by  Mr.  Field.  An  hour  or  more 
passed  in  the  performance  of  this  duty,  and  when  wfe 
ftscended  to  the  deck  we  were  rapidly  nearing  the  long  lint! 
of  bold,  barren  hills.  Cape  Ray,  the  extreme  southwestern 
point  of  the  island,  was  on  our  left,  rising  from  the  sea  in  a 
lofty  conical  peak,  which  was  separated  by  a  broad  natural 
gap  from  the  mountain-wall,  1,200  feet  in  height,  whi<;h  rose 
Inland,  behind  the  southern  coast.  The  aspect  of  this  shore 
was  sublime  in  its  very  bleakness.    Not  a  tree  was  to  be 


246  AT  HOME  AND   ABBOAD. 

seen,  aud  the  gray  of  its  hoary  rocks  was  but  partiallj 
veiled  by  the  grass  and  stunted  shrubs  coaxed  into  life  bj 
the  short  Summer  of  this  latitude. 

Our  pilot  headed  directly  for  Port-aux-Basques,  our 
destination,  but  to  the  eye  the  coast  presented  a  long 
line  of  iron  rocks,  without  any  apparent  place  of  shelter. 
Even  after  we  had  made  out  the  straggling  huts  of  the 
fishermen,  along  the  brow  of  the  cliffs,  and  seen  then 
tanned  sails  creeping  outside  the  line  of  snow-white  surf, 
there  was  no  sign  of  a  harbor,  such  as  our  chart  indi- 
cated. Our  little  pilot,  however,  knew  the  ground,  and 
when  he  had  brought  us  within  half  a  mile  of  the  gray 
rocks,  we  saw  the  narrow  mouth  of  the  harbor  on  their 
right.  The  hue  of  the  water  showed  deep  soundings 
everywhere,  and  we  ran  securely  into  the  port,  which  was 
deserted,  except  by  a  fishing  boat  that  put  out  to  meet  us. 
The  bark  Sarah  L'.  Bryant,  which  sailed  from  Liverpool 
on  the  3d  of  July  with  the  submarine  cable  on  board,  had 
not  arrived.  "We  were  too  soon  for  our  errand,  and  the 
ehiefs  of  the  company  immediately  decided  to  leave  for 
St.  Johns,  after  communicating  with  the  shore. 

I  seized  this  chance  of  putting  my  foot  on  Newfound- 
land soil.  We  jumped  into  a  rough  but  very  serviceable 
boat,  of  native  manufacture,  manned  by  two  oarsmen — 
stout,  lusty  fellows,  wdth  red  cheeks,  tanned  breasts,  and 
clear,  honest,  cheerful  eyes.  Half  way  to  the  shore  a  four- 
oared  boat  met  U3,  with  Mr.  Canning,  the  engineer  of  the 
Mediterranean  Submarine  Telegraph,  on  board.  He  had 
come  from  England  especially  to  superintend  the  laying  of 
*Jie  cable  t^  Cape  Breton,  and  had  already  been  two  weeki 


A  TELEGEAPlilC   TRIP   TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  241 

at  Port-aux-Basques.  He  was  quite  a  young  man,  but 
active  and  resolute  in  appearance. 

We  passed  behind  the  piles  of  gray,  weather-beaten 
rocks,  which  we  now  saw  formed  an  island,  called  Channel 
Head  by  the  boatmen.  The  water  was  full  of  floating 
kelp  of  great  size,  and  the  oars  and  rudder  frequently 
became  tangled  in  it.  In  the  narrow  strait  between  the 
rocks  and  the  mainland  the  water  was  shallow,  showing 
a  rich  and  brilliant  vegetation.  The  rocky  bottom  was 
covered  with  sea-mosses  of  the  purest  emerald,  purple, 
dark-red,  and  amber  hues,  over  which  dragged  the  long 
orange  stems,  and  thin,  glutinous  ruffles  of  the  kelp.  But 
now  we  approached  the  village,  whose  one-story  wooden 
houses  began  to  stud  the  bluff,  grassy  knobs.  Further 
back,  on  higher  mounds,  were  groups  of  the  inhabitants, 
principally  women,  who  seemed  to  be  watching  us.  We 
sprang  ashore  on  some  rocks,  climbed  the  hill,  despite  the 
fishy  odors  which  saluted  us,  and  were  in  the  village  of 
Port-aux-Basques. 

It  was  one  of  the  queerest  places  in  the  world.  Fancy 
a  line  of  the  roughest  mounds  or  knobs,  formed  of  marshy 
soil  sprinkled  with  boulders  of  gneiss,  or  some  kindred 
rock,  and  flung  together  in  the  most  confused  and  ii-regular 
manner  possible.  Drop  a  square,  clapboarded,  veteran 
h'lt  here,  and  another  there,  with  a  studied  avoidance  of 
order ;  stack  quantities  of  dried  codfish,  after  the  mannei 
of  haycocks,  in  any  convenient  place ;  infuse  a  smell  ot 
salted  fish  into  the  air  and  a  smell  of  cooked  fish  into  the 
auts ;  add  a  few  handsome  dogs,  some  stalwart  specimens 
of  men,  and  children  each  of  whom  would  famish  vitality 


248  AT  HOME  AKD  ABBOAD. 

for  four  New  Yorkers — and  you  have  the  prominent  fba 
tures  of  the  place.  Where  there  were  no  rocks  there  wai 
swamp,  even  on  the  hill-tops ;  and  where  the  grass  and 
weeds  had  bridged  over  the  oozy  soil,  it  was  as  elastic  be- 
neath our  feet  as  a  floor  of  India-rubber.  The  vegetation 
was  that  of  Spring  and  Autumn  combined ;  the  golden  ra- 

unculus  was  in  blossom  beside  the  aster  and  the  golden 
rod ;  the  delicate  blue  harebell  grew  beside  the  white  flower- 
ing elder  bush;  the  fragrant,  vernal  grasses  scented  the 
air  (in  places  distant  from  fish) ;  and  the  azure  iris,  or  Jleur- 
de-lis,  rose  in  thick  beds  between  the  rocks. 

The  village  contains  between  seventy  and  a  hundred 
houses,  which  are  scattered  along  the  knobs  for  a  distance 
of  three-quarters  of  a  mile.  These  knobs  are  separated  by 
ravines,  \wo  of  which  are  crossed  by  wooden  bridges. 
There  are  footpaths  branching  in  all  directions,  but  I  saw 
nothing  like  a  regular  road.  Near  the  centre  of  the 
place,  at  the  head  of  the  sheltered  cove,  there  is  a  large 
two-story  building  for  the  storage  of  fish.  A  flagstalf 
behind  it  had  the  English  and  American  ensigns  hoisted 
together.  Hereabouts  the  stacks  of  dried  fish  were  very 
plentiful.  I  was  forcibly  reminded  of  the  description  of  the 
Norwegian  fish-market  at  Lofoden,  in  Mflgge's  romance  of 
"  Afraja."  Some  of  the  houses  were  painted  white  or  dark- 
red,  but  the  greater  part  showed  the  dingy,  leaden  hue  of 

he  native  wood.  There  was  neither  tavern,  church,  noi 
ftore  to  be  seen,  but  we  were  told  that  various  article! 
might  be  bought  at  the  house  of  a  man  named  Waddell — 
which  house  was  distinguished  by  the  figure-head  of  the 
Prince    Charles,   lost   on    this   coast,   planted    beside    it 


A  TELEGKAPHIC   TKIP   TO    NEWrOUNDIJLND.  249 

There  is  also  service  on  Sundays,  occasionally;  but  the 
minister,  it  seems,  had  charge  of  several  similar  parishes, 
and  was  preaching  somewhere  in  the  wilderness.  This 
fact  might  have  explained  the  absence  of  the  inhabitants', 
who  had  gone  forth  for  a  holiday,  but  I  half  suspected  tha 
they  had  retreated  at  our  approach,  out  of  shyness  or  fear 
Many  of  them  have  never  seen  any  other  part  of  the  world 
When  the  Telegraphic  Company  sent  two  horses  there  tha 
year  previous,  there  was  a  great  excitement  in  the  place. 
Horses  had  never  been  seen  before,  except  in  pictures. 
Those  which  were  left  to  winter  there  were  speedily 
slaughtered  and  eaten.  The  line  of  telegraph  poles,  how- 
ever, which  crosses  the  hills,  is  a  streak  of  light  which  will 
soon  illuminate  this  benighted  corner  of  the  world. 

I  was  much  struck  with  the  free,  vigorous,  healthy  look 
of  the  inhabitants.  The  men  were  noble  examples  of 
physical  vigor.  The  women — except  one  old  dame — I  did 
not  see ;  but  the  children  showed  the  soundness  of  the 
stock  from  which  they  sprang.  There  was  one  little  girl, 
with  a  cloud  of  auburn  curls  around  her  head,  whose  blue 
eye  and  tan-roseate  cheek  made  a  very  sunshine  in  the 
shaded  doorway  where  she  sat.  The  men  were  not  only 
pre-eminently  healthy  and  vigorous,  but  they  had  honest, 
happy,  reliable  faces — ^faces  which  it  strengthens  you  to 
look  upon.  I  should  be  perfectly  willing  to  spend  a  month 
jr  two  among  them,  notwithstanding  their  rude  mode  of 
ife,  and  their  complete  isolation. 

We  had  but  jwi  hour  allowed  us,  and  so  went  sprin^ng 
from  rock  to  rock,  or  bounding  over  the  elastic  marshes, 
inhaling  alternate  whiffs  of  fish  and  flowers,  until  we  had 


250  AT   UOM£   AKD   AUBOaS. 

made  a  rapid  tour  of  the  village.  Under  tliat  glorious  sky  j 
and  in  the  breath  of  that  bracing  air,  the  scenery  had  a 
angular  charm  for  me.  The  sea,  blue  as  the  Mediterranean, 
thrust  its  shining  arms  deep  among  the  hills,  which,  divided 
by  lagoons,  resembled  an  archipelago  of  green  islands. 
The  white  rocks  along  the  shore  hurled  back  a  whiter  wall 
of  snowy  breakers;  and  westward,  beyond  the  peaked 
headland  of  Cape  Ray,  rose  the  blue  mountain- wall, 
streaked  with  the  gray  of  its  rocky  parapet.  Not  a  tree, 
aot  even  a  large  shrub  was  in  sight ;  nothing  but  grass, 
lowers,  and  rocks.  The  bare  forms  of  the  landscape  har- 
monized with  its  monotony  of  color ;  it  was  sublime  in  its 
srery  bleakness  and  simplicity.  It  resembled  nothing  I  have 
leen  on  the  American  Continent,  but  rather  the  naked, 
leathery  hills  of  the  western  coast  of  Scotland. 

In  two  hours  we  resumed  our  course,  standing  eastward 
ilong  the  coast,  whose  beautiful  stretch  of  swelling  hills 
Numed  to  a  deep  violet  in  the  flush  of  sunset.  The  night 
was  cloudless,  sparkling  with  stars,  streaked  with  meteors, 
and  illuminated  by  a  twilight  which  wheeled  slowly 
from  west  to  east,  under  the  North  Star,  but  never  faded 
away.  In  the  morning  we  saw  the  uninhabited  islands  of 
Miquelon  and  Langley,  which  belong  to  France,  and  passed 
near  enough  to  the  fishing-station  of  St.  Pierre  to  discern 
the  lighthouse  at  lae  entrance  of  the  little  harbor.  The 
neighboring  waters  were  dotted  with  the  red  or  tan- 
colored  sails  of  the  Freuv^h  fishing  smacks.  The  town  of 
St.  Pierre  contains  but  about  1,500  inhabitants,  but  I  was 
informed  that  during  the  Summer  season  there  are  fre- 
quently 400  sail  in  the  harbor,  and  from  80,000  to  40,000 


A.   TELEGRAPHIC   TEIP  TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  251 

persdns  in  the  streets.  We  should  probably  have  touched 
there  but  for  the  fact  that  the  French  government  exacts  a 
duty  of  three  francs  a  ton  on  all  foreign  shipping  entering 
the  port.  St.  Pierre  is  to  be  made  a  naval  station,  and 
the  Government  designs  sending  large  numbers  of  re 
cruits  for  the  marine  to  be  educated  in  the  fishing  *:ervice 
There  is  no  better  school  in  the  world  to  make  hard^ 
Asilors. 


XXL 

A    TELEGRAPHIC    TRIP    TO    NEWFOUNDLAND. 

[AUOUST,    1866.] 


n. — St.  Johks,  and  a  Walk  to  Topsail. 

I  WAS  lying  in  my  berth,  in  one  of  the  deck  state-rooms, 
on  Monday  morning,  when  a  sailor  came  up  to  the  open 
window  and  said :  "  You'd  better  get  up,  Sir ;  we  shall  be 
at  St.  Johns  in  an  hour."  I  took  his  advice  at  once,  hur- 
ried on  my  clothes,  and  got  on  deck  in  time  to  see  us  pass 
Cape  Spear,  a  bare,  green  headland,  crowned  with  a  light- 
house, beyond  which  the  coast  trends  westward  for  several 
miles.  The  land  was  lofty,  presenting  a  bold  front  to  the 
sea,  and  the  entrance  to  St.  Johns  Harbor,  which  our  little 
pilot  pointed  out  to  me  in  front  of  us,  was  a  narrow  gap 
between  two  precipitous  hills  whose  bases  almost  touched. 
The  morning  was  rainy  and  overcast,  but  not  foggy,  and 
the  approach  to  the  shore  was  so  secure  that  we  madf 


A  TELEGKAPHIC  TRIP  TO  ^TEWFOUNDLAND.  258 

directly  for  the  entrance,  which  we  had  almost  reached^ 
when  a  four-oared  boat,  carrying  a  pilot,  put  off  to  meet 
us.  The  town  of  St.  Johns  already  began  to  appear 
through  the  gap  or  gorge,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were 
sailing  between  nearly  perpendicular  walls  of  dark  red 
sandstone,  which  rose  to  the  height  of  700  feet  on  the 
southern,  and  520  feet  on  the  northern  side.  We  were 
hailed  from  a  small  lighthouse  and  battery  at  the  entrance. 
The  passage  is  not  more  than  three  or  four  hundred  yards 
wide. 

Signal  Hill,  on  the  north  side,  is  crowned  with  an  old 
battery  and  barracks,  now  converted  into  a  military  hospi- 
tal. There  is  also  a  water  battery  of  five  guns  at  its  foot, 
opposite  Chain  Rock,  so  called  from  the  fact  that  in  former 
vJmes  a  heavy  iron  chain  was  stretched  from  this  rock 
across  the  channel,  to  prevent  the  passage  of  ships.  Be- 
yond this  point  we  entered  the  harbor,  which  curved 
around  South-side  Hill,  extending  inland  for  nearly  a  mile. 
It  has  plenty  of  water  everywhere,  with  excellent  holding 
ground,  and  is  completely  sheltered  by  the  high  hills  of  the 
coast.  The  town  is  built  on  the  western  side,  facing  the 
entrance.  Its  old-fashioned  houses  of  brick  and  weather- 
beaten  wood  line  the  shore  for  the  distance  of  a  mile, 
climbing  the  steep  side  of  a  hill  which  is  crowned  by  the 
Roman  Catholic  Cathedral,  the  Colonial  Buildings,  the 
Government  House  and  two  small  fortifications.  Beyond 
it,  other  hills,  partly  cultivated,  and  dotted  with  small 
white  country-houses,  rise  inland.  A  crowd  of  schooners 
and  small  craft  lay  at  the  wharves,  and  fishing  boats  were 
moving  hither  and  thither  over  the  harbor.     All  around  the 


254  AT   HOME  AlTD   ABBOAO. 

[[fioies,  wherever  space  could  be  found,  were  the  flakes  ol 
the  fishermeu — flight  wooden  platforms,  supported  by  poles, 
and  covered  with  salted  codfish  in  all  stages  of  drying 
These  picturesque  flakes,  not  unlike  the  grape  arbors  of 
Italy,  and  a  powerful  fishy  smell  in  the  atmosphere,  pro- 
claim at  once  to  the  stranger  the  principal  business  of  St. 
Johns. 

We  moved  slowly  up  the  harbor  and  came  to  anchor  near 
its  western  extremity.  The  arrival  of  the  James  Adger 
produced  a  much  more  decided  sensation  than  at  Halifax. 
Notwithstanding  the  early  hour  there  was  a  crowd  gathered 
upon  the  whar^  and  some  of  us  who  landed  for  a  stroll 
before  breakfast  were  stared  at  by  all  the  men  we  met  and 
followed  by  most  of  the  boys.  The  principal  business  street 
in  the  town  is  near  the  water,  running  along  the  western  side 
of  the  harbor.  The  houses  are  mostly  two-story  dwellings 
of  brick  or  stone,  with  heavy  slate  roofs,  and  more  remark- 
able for  solidity  than  beauty.  This  part  of  the  town  has 
all  been  rebuilt  since  the  great  conflagration  in  June,  1846, 
from  the  effects  of  which  St.  Johns  has  but  recently  reco- 
rered.  At  that  time  a  space  of  150  acres  was  burned  over, 
■nd  2,300  buildings  consumed.  Twelve  thousand  people 
rere  made  homeless,  and  property  to  the  amount  of 
51,000,000  destroyed.  Those  districts  which  escaped  still 
-etain  the  dingy  old  wooden  houses  of  which  the  town  was 
originally  built.  The  population  of  St.  Johns  at  present  i» 
estimated  at  20,000. 

In  the  course  of  the  morning  I  visited  all  of  the  principal 
sights  of  the  place,  under  the  guidance  of  Mr.  Winton,  edi- 
tor of  The  Public  Ledger.    The  most  prominent  building 


A   TBLEGEAPHIC   TBIP   TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  255 

• 

is  tie  Catholic  Cathedral,  which  had  just  been  completed. 
It  occupies  a  commanding  position  on  the  crest  of  the  hill, 
and  being  built  of  gray  stone,  with  tall  square  towers,  bears 
some  resemblance  to  the  Cathedral  of  Montreal,  which  it 
equals  in  dimensions.  The  interior,  however,  does  not  bear 
out  its  exteiior  promise.  The  nave  is  low,  and  therefore 
does  not  produce  the  effect  which  niight  be  expected  from 
its  length  and  breadth ;  the  architectural  ornaments  are 
tawdry  and  inharmonious.  The  palace  of  Bishop  Mullock 
stands  beside  the  Cathedral,  with  a  little  garden  in  front. 
On  this  part  of  the  hill  is  an  earthwork  called  Fort  Frede- 
rick, which  contained  but  a  small  gariison.  In  fact,  the 
entire  number  of  troops  stationed  at  St.  Johns,  including 
those  in  Fort  William,  Chain  Rock  Battery,  and  upon  Sig 
nal  Hill,  amounts  only  to  about  two  hundred  men,  who 
belong  to  what  is  called  the  Royal  Newfoundland  Company, 
and  are  not  transferred  to  other  stations.  I  never  saw  a 
more  healthy  and  vigorous  body  of  men.  There  are  in 
England  no  ruddier  faces,  no  clearer  eyes,  no  more  sappy 
and  well-conditioned  bodies.  I  looked  with  great  admira- 
tion at  one  of  the  sentries  on  duty  at  Fort  William.  Tall, 
straight  as  a  lance,  with  firmly  chiselled,  half-Grecian  fea- 
tures, a  thick,  soft  mustache  and  a  classical  chin,  he  had  a 
complexion  like  that  of  a  ripe  peach,  a  mellow,  ruddily 
golden  flush,  which  showed  the  noblest  painting  of  air  and 
sunshine,  and  was  worthy  of  the  Titianic  pencil  of  Page. 

Capt.  Bowlin  courteously  conducted  us  over  Fort  Frede* 
rick,  where  the  most  interesting  thing  I  saw  was  the  library 
and  reading-room  of  the  soldiers — a  neat  little  apart< 
ment,  containing  1,650  well-selected  volumes,  and  a  nombei 


256  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

• 

of  newspapers  and  periodicals.  I  am  not  aware  that  so 
profitable  an  institution  as  this  has  ever  been  attached  to 
any  of  our  own  garrisons.  The  fortifications  are  all  small, 
and  seem  to  me  quite  insufficient  for  the  defence  of  so 
imprortftnt  a  place.  The  Government  House,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  built  on  a  scale  of  needless  magnificence,  having 
cost  £r.0,000,  on  an  estimate  of  £9,000.  It  is  a  long,  heavy- 
looking  mansion,  of  dark  gray  stone,  on  the  ridge  of  the 
hill,  and  surrounded  by  an  iuclosure  planted  with  trees, 
which  appear  to  grow  very  slowly  on  the  thin  soil.  In  the 
outskirts  of  the  town,  towards  the  north  and  west,  there  are 
several  neat  private  residences  with  gardens  attached, 
where  the  more  hardy  varieties  of  fruit  ripen,  and  even 
apples,  with  proper  protection,  are  made  to  bear;  bui 
strawberries  (which  were  just  disappearing)  gooseberries, 
currants,  and  cherries,  are  the  only  certain  fruits. 

The  Colonial  Building,  with  its  Grecian  portico,  stands 
near  the  Government  House.  The  Council  Chambers  were 
closed,  but  I  saw  the  Library,  and  the  nucleus  of  a  museum 
of  the  natural  history  of  Newfoundland,  which  promises 
to  be  valuable.  There  were  seals  of  all  sizes  and  ages, 
\volves,  foxes,  partridges,  grouse,  hawks,  owls,  the  headb 
and  horns  of  the  cariboo  or  reindeer,  beaver,  otter,  hares, 
and  various  other  animals,  some  of  which  seem  to  be  pecu- 
liar to  the  island.  The  cariboo  is  said  to  be  almost  identi- 
cal with  the  Lapp  reindeer,  whence  some  have  conjectured 
that  it  was  first  introduced  by  the  Norsemen,  who,  it  is 
well  known,  first  discovered  Newfoundland,  which  they 
named  HeUuland,  or  "  The  Land  of  broad,  flat  stones.* 
In  the  hall  of  the  building  there  is  a  vacant  niche,  wh^ 


A  TEUEGEAPHIC  TRIP   TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  261 

ought  to  be  filled  with  a  statue  of  the  gallant  old  Admiral, 
Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert,  who  in  the  year  1583  founded  St. 
Johns. 

The  Episcopal  Cathedral  stands  on  the  slope  of  the  hill, 
oelow  its  Catholic  rival.  Only  the  chancel  has  been  erected 
«vhich  is  of  dark  stone,  of  a  plain  but  pleasing  form  of  th 
Gothic  style.  From  its  imposing  dimensions,  the  building 
when  completed,  will  surpass  the  Catholic  Cathedral  in  size 
as  the  latter  surpa'^see  it  in  position.  The  animosity  be 
tween  the  two  sects  is  very  bitter,  and  since  an  independenl 
Colonial  Government  has  been  given  to  Newfoundland,  if 
enters  into  politics,  and  is  the  source  of  endless  bickerings. 
There  are  several  other  Protestant  churches,  the  piincipal 
of  which  is  the  Congregational  Church,  but  none  of  them 
add  much  to  the  beauty  of  the  place.  In  fact,  Nature  has 
done  neai'ly  everything  for  St.  Johns.  Spread  along  the 
slope  of  a  long  hill,  almost  every  house  commards  a  view  of 
the  beautiful  harbor,  the  grand  gateway  between  Signal  and 
South-side  Hills,  and  an  arc  of  blue  ocean  beyond ;  while, 
looking  inland,  picturesque  hills,  black  fir-woods,  yellow 
bay-fields,  cottages,  and  the  white  ribands  of  admirable 
roads,  branching  off  in  vaiious  directions,  form  landscapes 
of  very  different  character,  but  equally  as  attractive.  Tlie 
air  is  always  pure  and  exhilarating,  and  though  there  is 
much  rain  during  the  Winter  and  Spring  months,  fogs  ar 
^•lite  rare.  The  thick  mist-curtains  which  enshroud  th 
ffceat  fishing-banks  roll  up,  day  after  day,  to  within  a  mile 
or  two  of  the  shore,  and  there  tower,  Uke  immense  walls, 
leaving  all  within  them  in  clear  sunshine.  The  harbor  ol 
8t.  Johns  is  much  less  subject  to  fog  than  that  of  Halifai 


258  AT   HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

In  calling  Newfoundland  tlie  Land  of  Fogs,  we  have  mad« 
the  mistake  of  applying  to  the  island  the  climate  and  at- 
mosphere of  the  Grand  Bank,  from  which  it  is  separated  by 
a  belt  of  deep  water  from  forty  to  sixty  miles  in  breadth. 
The  morning  of  our  arrival  was  rainy,  but  about  noon 
the  wind  came  out  of  the  south-west,  rolling  the  masses  of 
cloud  before  it,  and  leaving  spaces  of  blue  sky  in  then 
place.  As  the  time  of  our  stay  was  uncertain,  and  I  was 
anxious  to  see  something  of  the  country,  I  acceded  to  a 
proposal  of  Mr.  Winton,  that  we  should  walk  out  in  the 
afternoon  to  a  farm  belonging  to  his  mother,  near  Topsail, 
on  Conception  Bay,  eleven  miles  distant,  and  there  spend 
the  night.  Mr.  O'Brien  and  Mr.  Middlebrook  joined  me, 
and  we  started  at  once.  Following  the  main  street  in  a 
south-western  direction,  past  the  head  of  the  harbor,  we 
soon  emerged  into  a  fine  macadamized  road,  which  left  the 
valley  and  gradually  ascended  over  the  undulating  slopes 
of  the  hills.  For  some  distance  it  was  lined  with  suburban 
cottages,  surrounded  with  potato-patches,  gooseberry- 
bushes,  or  clumps  of  fir  and  spruce  trees,  which  sometimes 
attain  a  height  of  thirty  feet.  The  largest  trunk  I  saw 
was  about  eighteen  inches  in  diameter.  To  these  followed 
fields  of  thick  grass,  sometimes  brown  and  shorn,  some- 
times striped  with  fragrant  swathes  or  dotted  with  rounded 
haycocks.  There  were  also  some  fields  of  oats  and  barley, 
whicli  were  still  quite  green,  one  only  coming  into  head. 
We  met  a  few  rough  country  carts,  driven  by  hardy,  sun- 
burned men  or  boys,  going  to  St.  Johns,  but  neither  horse 
men  nor  pleasure-carriages,  nor  pedestrians,  except  unmi» 
takable  laborers.    It  was  evidently  a  land  of  work. 


A  TKLKGRAPHIC   TRIP   10    NEWFOHNDULND.  259 

After  travelling  four  or  five  miles  at  a  pace  which  would 
nave  been  fatiguing  but  for  the  constant  exhilaration  of  the 
Bouth-west  breeze  that  blew  in  our  faces,  we  reached  a  wild, 
rolling  upland,  where  the  signs  of  cultivation  became  more 
scarce,  and  from  the  charactei"  of  the  wild  land  I  could  per- 
ceive how  much  labor  and  expense  are  requisite  to  fit  it  for 
cultivation.  The  timber  is  short,  but  exceedingly  hard  and 
tough,  and  after  the  trees  are  cut  and  the  stumps  grubbed  up, 
the  soil  is  covered  with  loose  stones,  which  must  be  picked  off 
over  and  over  again  before  there  is  a  sufficient  foothold  for 
grain  or  potatoes.  In  spite  of  all  this,  and  the  fact  that  the 
soil  is  but  a  thin  layer  upon  a  basis  of  solid  rock,  which 
continually  crops  out  through  it,  the  yield  of  hay  is  re- 
markably good,  and  potatoes,  when  they  escape  the  rot, 
produce  very  well.  The  price  of  cleared  land  varies  from 
£5  to  £16  per  acre,  according  to  quality  and  location. 
Farming,  in  this  part  of  the  island,  can  scarcely  be  remu- 
nerative, except  at  a  crisis  like  the  present,  when  all  the 
necessaries  of  life  are  very  dear. 

The  scenery  through  which  our  road  lay  reminded  me 
continually  of  the  western  coast  of  Scotland.  It  certainly 
bore  no  resemblance  to  any  part  of  the  American  continent 
which  I  have  visited.  High,  bald  ranges  of  hills,  following 
the  line  of  the  coast,  stretched  away  southwards,  where 
they  blended  with  the  rolling  inland,  covered  with  dark 
woods  of  spruce,  fir,  and  larch.  From  every  ridge  we  over- 
looked stern  tracts  of  wilderness,  which  embosomed  lakes 
of  cold,  fresh  water,  bluer  than  sapphire.  Occasionally, 
streams  whose  tint  of  golden  brown  betrayed  the  roots  and 
trmiks  through  which  they  had  filtered,  brawled  over  then 


260  AT  HOMB  AND   ABROAD. 

rocKy  beds.  A  fow  cattle  and  sheep  grazing  along  the  edg« 
of  the  woods  gave  a  pastoral  air  to  this  region,  which 
would  otherwise  have  been  desolate  in  its  ruggedness  and 
loneliness. 

We  stopped  a  few  minutes  at  a  wayside  tavern,  where, 
in  a  room  with  sanded  floor  and  colored  prints  on  the  walls, 
we  were  served  with  spruce  beer,  bitter  with  the  resinous 
extract  of  the  tree.  We  had  walked  eight  miles,  and  were 
now  upon  the  dividing  ridge  between  the  Atlantic  and 
Conception  Bay,  a  deep  sheet  of  water  which  reaches  to 
within  three  miles  of  Placentia  Bay,  on  the  southern  side 
of  the  island,  and  almost  insulates  the  promontory  on  which 
St,  Johns  is  built.  Two  hills  opened  like  a  gateway,  and 
between  them  spread  the  blue  waters  of  the  bay,  with  its 
dim  further  shore,  and  the  long,  undulating  hills  of  Bell 
Isle  basking  in  the  soft  light  of  the  afternoon  sun.  The 
road,  which  was  as  hard  and  smooth  as  an  English  highway, 
led  downwards  to  the  shore,  revealing  with  every  step  a 
wider  stretch  of  bay,  over  which  towered,  on  the  right,  the 
pale  red  and  gray  rocks  of  Topsail  Head,  rising  to  a  height 
of  seven  or  eight  hundred  feet.  In  a  little  glen,  the  bottom 
of  which,  by  careful  clearing  and  draining,  had  been  turned 
mto  a  smooth  field  of  thick,  mossy  turf,  we  found  the  neat 
white  cottage  which  was  to  be  our  resting-place  for  the 
night.  A  rapid  stream  foamed  beside  it,  and  hills  of  fir 
inclosed  it  on  all  sides,  except  the  north,  which  was  open 
to  the  bay.  The  mistress  of  the  house  was  absent,  but  we 
found  a  man  ard  maid-servant,  who  conducted  the  aflairs 
of  the  household  in  her  stead. 

As  there  were  still  two  or  three  hours  of  daylight,  w« 


A   T£LEGBAPHIC   TRIP   TO   NEWFOUNDLAND.  )ifH 

wuiked  on  to  the  village  of  Topsail,  and  followed  the  road 
along  the  shore  to  a  place  called  Chamberlain's  Pohit. 
The  views  across  the  bay,  and  south-westward  towards  its 
head,  -w  ere  very  beautiful.  Bell  Isle  lay  stretched  out  before 
us  in  its  whole  length,  with  the  picturesque  little  fishing 
village  of  Lance  Cove  opposite  to  ua,.  Little  Bell  Isle  and 
Kelly's  Isle  were  further  south,  and  beyond  them  the  shore 
was  no  longer  bold  and  bluff,  but  sank  into  gentle  hills. 
The  road  was  lined  with  the  wooden  huts  of  the  fishermen, 
with  here  and  there  the  more  ambitious  summer  cottage 
of  a  St.  John's  merchant,  buried  in  a  sheltering  grove  of  fo- 
trees.  The  scenery  became  less  bleak  and  rugged  as  we 
advanced,  and  I  regretted  that  I  had  not  time  to  follow  the 
road  to  Holyrood,  eighteen  miles  further,  at  the  head  of 
the  bay. 

We  returned  to  the  cottage  under  a  sunset  sky  as  clear 
and  cold  as  it  is  possible  for  a  sky  to  appear.  The  fire  of 
dried  boughs  in  the  capacious  chimney-place  was  very 
comfortable  in  the  evening,  and  in  spite  of  a  brilliant  white 
auroral  arch  and  shooting  lances  of  golden  flame  in  the 
northern  sky,  we  preferred  remaining  in-doors,  lounging  on 
the  benches  in  the  chimney  comer,  smoking,  and  listening 
to  tales  of  cod-fishing,  and  wolf  or  bear  hunting,  told  by 
the  shrewd,  sturdy,  serving-man,  William  of  Dorsetshire 
William  was  farmer,  hunter,  and  sailor,  all  in  one,  and  his 
originally  frank  and  honest  nature  had  ripened  vigorously 
'm  the  exercise  of  the  three  manliest  occupations  in  the 
world.  His  blunt,  expressive  language  and  rough  expe- 
riences of  the  Newfoundland  shores  and  forests  had  a  real 
charm  for  me,  and  the  early  bedtime  of  the  country  ($ame 


262  A.7   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

on  apace.  I  enjoyed  a  sound  sleep  after  the  day's  tramp 
and  awoke  with  the  first  blush  of  a  morning  as  frostily  cool 
as  our  October.  We  had  hired  a  horse  and  light  wagot 
from  Mr.  Daly,  who  kept  a  store  and  tavern  for  the  fishermen 
at  Topsail ;  Mr.  Winton  added  his  own  wagon  and  gray 
pony,  and  two  hours'  drive  over  the  hills,  in  the  cloudless 
Bunshine  and  elastic  air,  brought  us  back  to  St.  Johns. 

We  found  our  fellow  passengers  preparing  for  an  excur- 
sion to  Portugal  Cove,  on  Conception  Bay.  The  hospita- 
lity of  St.  Johns  was  already  exerting  itself  to  find  means 
for  our  diversion,  and  every  available  private  can-iage  in  the 
town  (where  there  is  not  a  single  hack  to  be  hired)  had 
been  secured.  Before  one  o'clock  all  our  passengers  and 
twenty  or  thirty  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  place  were  on 
the  road.  We  passed  the  Cathedral  and  Government 
House,  catching,  from  the  other  side  of  the  hill,  a  glimpse 
of  Quidi  Vidi  Lake,  a  picturesque  sheet  of  water  which 
lies  behind  Signal  Hill,  and  slowly  climbed  to  the  rolling, 
wooded  uplands  of  the  interior.  To  the  north  extended  a 
shallow  basin,  containing  1,700  acres  of  dwarf  spruce  for- 
est, beyond  which  arose  the  blue  headlands  of  the  coast, 
with  slips  of  the  ocean  horizon  between.  AU  this  tract 
might  be  cleared  and  cultivated,  but  much  of  it  would 
require  drainage,  and  the  expense  of  preparing  it  for  grain 
would  hardly  repay  the  scanty  and  uncertain  yield.  All 
this  region  is  remarkably  well  watered :  in  fact,  the  same 
remark  applies  to  the  whole  island,  and  it  is  estimated  that 
one-fourth  of  its  surface  consists  of  lakes  and  ponds.  We 
passed  several  beautiful  lakes,  swarming  with  trout,  and 
gleaming   cold  and  blue  in  the  sunshine.     Twenty-mile 


A   TBLKGKAPHIC   TRIP   TO   NEWPOinTDLAND.  263 

Pond,  a  picturesque  sheet  of  water,  is  six  or  seven  miles  iu 
length,  and  contains  several  islands.  There  were  a  few  cot- 
tages and  hay-fields  along  the  road,  and  I  saw  some  stacks 
of  peat,  which  must  have  been  cut  more  from  custom  and 
radition  than  necessity,  for  wood  is  abundant. 

After  skirting  the  shores  of  Twenty-mile  Pond,  the  road 
crossed  another  ridge,  and  descended  rapidly  towards  Con- 
ception Bay,  which,  as  on  the  Topsail  Road,  opened  finely 
between  two  lofty  headL-mls,  with  the  northern  half  of 
Bell  Isle  before  us,  and  the  line  of  the  opposite  shore 
stretching  away  dimly  to  its  extremity.  The  bight  belo\» 
us,  mclosed  by  the  headlands,  was  Portugal  Cove ;  and  tha 
huts  of  the  fishermen,  sprinkled  over  the  rocks,  formed  a 
crescent  a  mile  in  length,  in  the  middle  of  which  a  stream 
from  the  lake  above  fell  in  sparkling  cascades  into  the  bay. 
Flakes  covered  with  odoriferous  codfish  arose  like  terracea 
from  the  shore,  where  the  boats  of  the  fishermen  were 
moored,  while  others,  with  their  lines  out,  dotted  the  sur- 
face of  the  water.  There  was  a  wild  and  picturesque  beauty 
in  the  place,  which  made  us  forget  its  fishy  atmosphere. 
Some  of  the  party  strolled  around  the  cove  ;  others  climbed 
rocks  for  a  wider  lookout ;  others  read  the  epitaphs  in  an 
ancient  graveyard ;  but  after  an  hour  or  two  all  were  will- 
ing to  return  to  the  village  tavern,  where  our  hosts  had 
provided  an  admirable  limch.  We  returned  to  St.  Johns 
early  in  the  afternoon  on  account  of  the  dinner  to  be  given 
on  board  the  steamer  in  the  evening. 


XXII. 

A    TELEGRAPHIC   TRIP    TO    NEWFOUNDLAND. 

[AUGUST,   1866.1 


III. — St.  Johns — Excursions  and  Fbstivitibs. 

[  ABOSB  on  the  following  morning  at  five  o'clock,  and 
accompanied  Mr.  Field  on  a  trip  to  Logie  Bay,  a  cove  in 
the  coast  about  six  miles  north  of  St.  Johns.  We  had  a 
light  open  wagon,  an  L-ish  driver,  and  an  old  stager  of  a 
horse,  which  took  us  over  the  ground  in  a  few  minutes  less 
than  an  hour.  The  road  passed  through  a  portion  of  the 
stunted  fir-woods  which  we  had  skirted  on  the  way  to  Por- 
tugal Cove,  and  then  turned  eastward  towards  the  coast, 
approaching  a  lofty  headland  of  red  sandstone  rock,  which 
is  a  prominent  feature  in  the  view  northward  from  St. 
Johns.  The  rolling  upland  gradually  sloped  into  a  narrow 
valley,  with  a  stream  at  the  bottom.  Following  this,  we 
descended  to  a  cluster  of  fishing  huts  at  the  head  of  a  rookj 


A  TBa::EaEAPHic  teip  to  Newfoundland.         265 

cove,  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  breadth,  between  the 
two  headlands.  The  shore  was  everywhere  perpendicular, 
or  nearly  so,  and  the  huts  were  perched  upon  the  brink  of 
cliffs  seventy  or  eighty  feet  high,  at  the  bottom  of  which 
the  sea  rolled  in  and  broke  in  volumes  of  spray.  A  steep  foot- 
path descended  between  the  flakes  of  the  fishermen  to  a  gap 
or  split  in  the  rocks,  across  which  was  built  the  boat-house, 
a  light  timber  framework  high  above  the  water,  and  provided 
with  falls  for  hauling  up  the  boats  in  rough  weather. 

An  old  fisherman,  who  appeared  to  be  the  only  male  at 
home,  the  other  inhabitants  having  gone  off  before  daylight 
to  their  fishing  labors,  accompanied  us  to  the  boat-house, 
and  pointed  out  the  spot  where  a  part  of  it  had  been  car- 
ried away  by  the  fall  of  an  overhanging  mass  of  rock.  We 
walked  along  an  elastic  platform,  made  by  poles  fastened 
together,  to  the  end,  whence  there  was  a  magnificent  view 
of  the  cove,  with  its  walls  of  dark-red  sandstone,  fringed 
with  moving  lines  of  foam,  and  its  grand  buttress  of  Red 
Head,  as  the  promontory  is  called,  rising  almost  perpendi- 
cularly to  the  height  of  780  feet.  A  few  fishing  craft  dot- 
ted the  gray  surface  of  the  sea,  over  which  the  mist  hung 
If  w  in  the  distance. 

The  fishermen's  wives  were  employed  in  spreading  out 
npon  the  flakes  the  fish  which  had  been  stacked  together 
during  the  night,  with  the  skins  uppermost  to  protect  them 
fi'om  moisture,  They  informed  us  that  the  season  was 
anusually  good,  but  as  the  price  of  fish  was  low  they  would 
gain  but  little  by  their  abundance.  Last  yaar,  they  said, 
fish  had  sold  at  fifteen  and  sixteen  shillings  the  quintal  (120 
'bs.)  but  this  year  the  price  had  gone  down  to  twelve  and 


260  AT  HOME   A.WD   ABROAD. 

thirteen  shillings.  The  value,  let  me  here  explain,  is  not  M 
much  regulated  by  the  demand  in  foreign  markets  as  by  the 
will  of  the  merchants  of  St.  Johns,  who  not  only  fix  the 
price  of  the  fish  they  buy  but  of  the  goods  they  sell  to  the 
tishermen.  They  thus  gain  in  both  ways,  and  fatten  rapidly 
on  the  toils  and  hai'dships  of  the  most  honest  and  simple- 
hearted  race  in  the  world.  It  is  their  policy  to  keep  the 
fishermen  always  in  debt  to  them,  and  the  produce  of  the 
fishing  season  is  often  mortgaged  to  them  in  advance.  It 
is  an  actual  fact  that  these  poor  fishermen  are  obliged  to 
pay  for  their  flour,  groceries,  and  provisions  from  60  to 
100  per  cent  more  than  the  rich  and  independent  residents 
of  St.  Johns.  It  is  no  wonder  therefore  that  the  merchants 
amass  large  fortunes  in  the  course  of  eight  or  ten  years, 
while  their  virtual  serfs  remain  as  poor  and  as  ignorant  as 
their  fathers  before  them.  These  things  were  mentioned 
to  me  by  more  than  one  of  the  intelligent  citizens  of  St. 
Johns,  and  confirmed  by  all  of  the  fishermen  with  whom  I 
conversed  on  the  subject.  Several  of  the  latter  said  to  me, 
"  Ah,  Sir,  if  your  people  had  the  management  of  things 
here  it  would  be  better  for  us."  This  monopolizing  spirit 
of  gain  is  the  curse,  not  only  of  St.  Johns,  but  of  all  New- 
foundland. It  is  the  spirit  which  resists  all  progress,  all 
improvements  for  the  general  good  which  seem  to  threaten 
the  overthrow  of  its  unjust  advantages — which  has  mad« 
Newfoundland  at  the  present  day,  three  hundred  and  fifty 
years  after  its  discovery  by  Sebastian  Cabot,  an  almost 
unknown  wilderness,  and  which  would  fain  preserve  it  as  a 
wilderness,  in  order  that  no  other  branch  of  industry  may 
be  developed  but  that  upon  which  it  preys. 


A  TELEGKAPHIC  TRIP  TO  xnTWPomffnT.ATnt,  267 

The  fishermen  in  some  cases  deliver  their  fish  to  the 
merchants,  cured ;  in  others,  the  latter  purchase  the  yiel  1 
as  it  comes  from  the  boats,  and  have  the  drying  done  up  m 
their  own  flakes.  The  livers  are  usually  sold  separately  to 
those  merchants  who  carry  on  the  manufacture  of  oil.  The 
dried  cod,  after  having  been  assorted,  are  stored  in  ware- 
houses, ready  to  be  shipped  to  foreign  marketa  The 
greatest  demand  is  from  Spain,  Cuba,  and  the  West 
Indies  generally.  The  whole  town  is  pervaded  by  the 
peculiar  odor  of  the  fish,  which  even  clings  to  the  gar- 
ments of  those  who  deal  in  them.  This  odor,  very 
unpleasant  at  first,  becomes  agreeable  by  familiarity,  and 
finally  the  nostrils  cease  to  take  cognizance  of  it.  St. 
Johns  is  decidedly  the  most  ancient  and  fish-like  town  in 
North  America.  I  saw  a  man  in  the  street  one  ^aj  whose 
appearance  and  expression  were  precisely  that  of  a  dried 
codfish. 

We  returned  homewards  from  Logie  Bay  by  way  of 
Virginia  Water,  the  residence  of  Mr.  Emerson,  Solicitor- 
General.  This  is  one  of  the  most  charmingly  secluded 
hermitages  which  it  is  possible  to  imagine.  We  fijsi 
turned  into  a  stony  lane,  leading  through  the  midst  of  a 
young  forest  of  fir  and  spruce  trees.  As  the  lane  de- 
scended the  trees  became  taller  and  more  dense,  until  we 
arrived  at  a  cottage-lodge,  shaded  by  a  willow,  on  the  edge 
of  a  beautiful  lake,  entirely  encompassed  by  the  dark 
woods.  Passing  this  lodge,  we  found  ourselves  on  a  grassy 
peninsTila.  twenty  yards  in  width,  between  what  appeared 
to  be  two  lakes,  but  were  in  reality  the  two  ends  of  one, 
which  curves  itself  into  a  nearly  perfect  circle,  three  miles 


268  AT   HOME   AND    ABBOAD. 

in  extent.  A  gate  at  the  end  of  this  isthmus  ushired  ui 
into  the  woods  again,  between  trees  thirty  or  forty  fee^ 
high,  and  so  dense  as  to  be  abuost  impenetrable.  Out  of 
the  dark  avenue  we  came  at  last  upon  an  open  lawn  of 
about  two  acres,  sloping  from  Mr.  Emerson's  cottage  to 
the  lake.  The  cottage  had  a  veranda  in  front,  completely 
overrun  with  hop-vines  and  the  fragrant  woodbine,  and 
the  edges  of  the  wall  of  fir  trees  behind  it  were  brilliant 
with  the  blossoms  of  a  variety  of  hardy  garden-flowers. 
The  lawn  sloped  to  the  south,  looking  across  the  lake  to 
the  woods  beyond,  whose  dark-green  tops  hemmed  in  the 
sky.  The  keen  north-west  wind  which  rippled  the  water 
was  unfelt  around  the  cottage,  so  completely  was  it  shel- 
tered by  its  fir  palisades. 

Mr.  Emerson  and  his  daughters  received  us  cordially, 
and  offered  us  some  delicious  coffee,  which  our  long  ride  in 
the  cool  morning  air  made  very  acceptable.  I  regretted 
that  time  would  not  allow  us  to  explore  the  wild  wood- 
paths  over  the  island  on  which  his  house  is  built,  and  that 
the  carriage-road  along  the  borders  of  the  lake  was  so 
much  out  of  repair  that  we  could  not  pass  over  it.  The 
lake  swarms  with  trout,  and  as  Mr.  Emerson  is  fortunate 
enough  to  possess  the  whole  of  it,  he  has  at  hand  an 
unlimited  supply  of  this  prince  of  fish.  The  cottage  waa 
originally  built  by  a  foi-mer  Governor  of  the  island.  Were 
it  in  the  vicinity  of  New  York  or  London,  the  property 
would  be  beyond  all  price ;  but  when  I  looked  up  at  the 
cold  sky  overhead,  and  remembered  the  brief,  barren 
Summer  of  Newfoundland,  I  felt  that  I  should  prefer  t 
simple  tent  beneath  the  Oriental  palms. 


A  TELEGKAPHIC   TEIP   TO    NEWFOUNBLAND.  268 

In  the  afternoon  I  walked  out  to  Signal  Hill,  the  peak 
of  which  I  have  already  spoken,  fonning  the  northern  side 
of  the  gateway  to  the  harbor.  It  is  a  mass  of  old  reo 
sandstone,  rising  520  feet  above  the  sea.  The  summit  is 
devoted  entirely  to  military  purposes.  There  was  formerly  8 
battery,  which,  being  of  little  use,  has  been  abandoned ;  also 
a  hospital,  which  has  been  converted  into  barracks  for  the 
married  soldiers,  and  a  station  whence  approaching  vessels 
are  signalled  to  the  town.  A  steep  and  rugged  foot-path 
over  the  rocks  led  us  to  the  block-house,  out  of  which  rises 
the  signal-staff,  on  the  apex  of  the  headland.  The  door 
was  open,  the  house  imtenanted,  and  I  made  my  way  to 
the  look-out  gallery,  and  used  the  excellent  telescope,  with- 
out hindrance  from  any  one.  The  panorama  from  this 
point  is  superb,  embracing  the  town  and  harbor  of  St. 
Johns,  the  coimtry  inland,  clouded  with  forests  and  span- 
gled with  blue  lakes,  as  far  as  the  western  headlands 
which  rise  above  Conception  Bay.  At  my  feet  yawned 
the  throat  of  the  wonderful  harbor ;  Southside  Hill,  gray 
and  mossy,  rose  beyond  it,  with  the  long,  narrow  inlet  of 
Freshwater  Bay  to  the  left,  and  the  bold  green  hills  of  the 
coast  stretching  away  to  Cape  Spear.  Between  me  and 
the  latter  point  the  boats  of  the  St.  Johns  fishermen 
swarmed  over  the  water,  and  on  a  distant  horizon  arose 
the  wall  of  white  fog  which  marks  the  boundaries  of  the 
Grand  Bank, 

I  had  a  strong  lesire  to  visit  the  fishing  village  of  Quidi 
Vidi,  at  the  foot  of  the  lake  of  the  same  name,  and  on 
descending  Signal  Hill  took  a  path  which  led  to  the  right, 
along  the  top  of  a  range  of  grassy  fields.     The  people  of 


270  A.T  HOM£  AND  ABROAD. 

St.  Johns  account  for  the  name  of  the  lake  by  a  traditiob 
of  an  old  Portuguese  sailor,  its  discoverer,  who  at  firgt 
beholding  it,  cried  out  in  his  native  language,  "  What  do  1 
see  ?  "  This  lake  is  a  favorite  resort  in  summer,  and  the 
place  where  the  annual  regattas  are  held.  It  is  about' a 
mile  long,  lying  in  a  deep  valley,  the  sides  of  which  are 
covered  with  hay-fields.  A  stream  from  its  further  end 
falls  in  a  succession  of  little  cascades  down  a  rocky  ledge 
into  the  land-locked  cove,  around  which  the  village  of 
Qnidi  Vidi  is  built.  We  pursued  our  path  over  a  sloping 
3own  covered  with  dwarf  whortle-berries  and  wild  roses 
of  delicious  perfume.  The  Kalmia  latifolia  grew  in 
thick  clumps,  and  its  flowering  period  was  not  entirely 
past.  After  a  walk  of  a  mile  we  reached  the  village,  which 
contains  forty  or  fifty  houses,  built  at  the  head  and  along 
the  sides  of  an  oval  sheet  of  water,  completely  inclosed  by 
the  red  rocks,  and  so  silent  and  glassy  that  no  one  would 
ever  suppose  it  communicated  with  the  turbulent  sea 
without. 

Quidi  Vidi  is  entirely  a  fishing  village,  and  a  more 
picturesque  one  an  artist  could  not  desire.  Except  the 
smells  of  the  codfish  drying  on  the  lofty  flakes,  which  at 
once  disenchant  a  romantic  visitor,  it  seems  almost  Arcar 
dian  in  its  air  of  neatness  and  of  quiet.  The  flakes,  not- 
withstanding the  uses  to  which  they  are  dedicated,  are 
really  picturesque  objects,  their  light  platforms  shooting 
above  the  grassy  knolls  around  the  village,  and  even  above 
the  houses  and  lanes,  so  that  portions  of  the  place  are 
veritably  roofed  with  cod-fish.  The  boat-houses,  con- 
•tructed  of  light   poles  with  the  bark  on,  extend  ovei 


A.  TELEGRAPHIC   TRIP   TO   NEWI-OUNDLAND.  271 

the  water,  whose  green  depths  mirror  the  white  cottages, 
the  flakes,  and  the  red  rocks  towering  above  them.  Three 
or  four  fishermen  who  had  just  returned  from  their  day'H 
work,  saluted  us  in  a  friendly  manner,  and  at  our  request 
manned  a  boat  and  pulled  us  to  the  mouth  of  the  cove 
where  a  gut  between  the  rocks,  thii-ty  or  forty  feet  in 
breadth  and  two  hundred  feet  in  length,  conducts  to  the 
sea.  This  gut  is  so  shallow,  that  at  some  seasons  the  fish- 
ermen are  confined  within  their  cove  for  a  week  at  a 
time,  unable  to  get  their  boats  outside.  A  heavy  sea 
also  imprisons  them,  and  although  there  was  a  very  light 
swell  at  the  time  of  our  visit,  our  boatmen  preferred 
waiting  for  the  pauses  of  smooth  water.  The  outside 
cove,  between  the  headlands  of  Sugar  Loaf  and  Cuck- 
old's Head,  is  small  but  exceedingly  beautiful,  the  nearly 
vertical  strata  of  red  sandstone  shooting  like  walls  to  the 
height  of  several  hundred  feet  above  the  water.  A  her- 
ring net  was  set  inside  of  the  cove,  and  two  or  three 
youths  in  a  boat  with  a  gun,  were  endeavoring  to  shoot 
a  salt-water  pigeon.  Our  fishermen  were  fine,  athletic, 
honest  fellows,  and  I  should  desire  no  better  recreation 
than  to  live  a  month  among  them,  sharing  their  labors 
so  far  as  I  might  be  able,  and  drawing  strength  from 
';heir  healthy  and  manly  natures. 

In  the  evening  the  grand  ball,  given  to  the  officers  of  the 
Telegraph  Company  and  their  guests,  came  off  at  the  Colo- 
mal  Buildings.  It  had  only  been  detei'mined  upon  at  the 
dinner  on  board  the  James  Adger  the  evening  before,  and 
the  citizens  of  St.  Johns,  who  had  taken  upon  themselvei 
the  labor  of  getting  up  the  entertainment,  were  in  a  ferment 


272  AT   UOALB  XSD  ABBOAD. 

of  preparatiou  from  morning  till  night.  A  large  private 
party  which  had  been  appointed  for  the  same  evening  was 
postponed  until  the  next  week,  and  all  the  resources  of  th* 
place  called  upon  to  furnish  a  display  which  should  be  ere 
ditable  to  it  and  to  the  occasion.  They  succeeded  admira 
bly,  and  the  festivity  no  doubt  passed  off  with  greatei 
spirit  and  cordiality  on  account  of  its  impromptu  character 
The  Colonial  Buildings  were  brilliantly  illuminated ;  libra 
ries  and  offices  were  converted  into  dressing-rooms,  thi 
Supreme  Court  became  a  ball-room,  and  the  Assemblj 
Chamber  contained  more  good  things  (in  the  way  of  sup- 
per) than  for  a  long  time  before.  At  the  extremity  of  the 
ball-room  the  English  and  American  flags  were  displayed, 
and  the  band  of  the  garrison  played  loudly  for  the  dancers. 
At  supper  we  had  speeches  from  Mr.  Little,  Mr.  Cooper, 
and  Mr.  Field,  with  the  usual  amount  of  cheers  and  enthu* 
siasm. 

All  the  belle  sof  St.  Johns  were  present,  and  we  had  an 
opportunity  of  verifying  the  reports  of  their  beauty.  Therb 
are  no  fresher  and  lovelier  complexions  out  of  England. 
They  retain  the  pure  red  and  white — milk  and  roses,  say 
the  Germans — of  their  transmarine  ancestry,  with  the  bright 
eyes  and  delicate  features  of  our  own  continent.  I  was 
glad  to  see,  however,  that  our  young  American  ladies  bore 
the  test  of  comparison  without  injury,  and  that  it  was  i.ot 
merely  the  courtesy  due  to  strangers  which  attracted  the 
Newfoundland  bachelors  towards  them. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  the  healthy  appearance  of  the 
people.  Statistics  show  that  there  is  no  climate  in  the 
world  more  conducive  to  health  and  longevity;  but  prob» 


A   TELEGRAPHIC   TRIi'    TO   NEWFOUNDLAIfD.  278 

bly  the  quiet,  unexeitable  habits  of  the  Newfoundlandem 
contribute  somewhat  to  this  result.  There  are,  I  have  been 
informed,  no  prevalent  diseases.  I  have  heard  of  some 
•.ases  of  consumption  among  the  fishermen,  probably  occar 
loned  by  extreme  hardship  and  exposure  ;  but  fevers  and 
diseases  of  the  digestive  and  nervous  systems  are  rare.  No 
race  of  people  that  I  have  ever  seen  shows  more  healthy 
and  vigorous  stamina,  and  the  natural  morality  which 
accompanies  this  condition.  They  are  nourished  by  the 
pure,  vital  blood,  unmixed  with  any  of  those  morbid 
elements  which  so  often  poison  the  life  of  our  physically 
and  spiritually  intemperate  American  people.  When  shall 
we  learn  the  all-important  truth  that  vice  is  oftener  patho- 
logical than  inherent  in  the  heart,  and  that  a  sound  body  is 
the  surest  safeguard  against  those  social  evils  with  which 
we  are  threatened  ? 

Our  passengers  invested  largely  in  dogs.  The  pure 
Newfoundland  breed,  however,  is  about  as  difficult  to  be 
obtained  in  St.  Johns  as  elsewhere,  owing  to  its  being  con- 
tinually crossed  with  exported  curs  of  all  kinds.  Now  and 
then  you  see  a  specimen,  whose  beauty,  sagacity,  and  nobl' 
animal  dignity  proclaim  him  to  be  of  the  true  blood,  bi  t 
such  are  held  in  high  estimation  and  rarely  offered  for  sa'.e. 
In  the  out-ports,  especially  towards  Labrador,  the  genu'me 
breed  is  more  frequently  met  with.  Of  the  fifteen  oi 
wenty  on  board,  three  or  four  were  very  fine  animals 
rhey  were  all  jet-black,  long-haired,  and  web-footed,  but 
of  very  different  degrees  of  beauty  and  intelligence.  The 
prices  range  from  two  to  ten  dollars,  according  to  age  aiv3 
quality. 


£74  AT  HOMB  AND  XEBOAL 

On  Friday  morning  I  made  the  ascent  of  South-side  hill, 
which  is  the  highest  point  near  St.  Johns,  rising  to  an  alti- 
tude of  se-?  en  or  eight  hmidred  feet  above  the  sea.  Cross- 
ing the  bridge  at  the  head  of  the  harbor,  I  took  a  steep, 
flony  path,  which  presently  separated  into  a  number  of 
Blieei)-tracks,  and  branched  oflT  among  the  scrubby  under- 
grovsi,h  which  covered  the  hill.  I  therefore  made  a  straight, 
course  for  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  which  I  reached  after  a 
rough  walk  of  nearly  two  miles,  over  boggy  shelves  of  level 
soil,  up  stony  declivities,  and  through  tearing  thickets  of 
stunted  spruce.  The  top  of  the  hill  is  covered  with  a 
spongy,  peat-like  carpet,  a  foot  or  more  in  depth,  formed 
from  the  accumulated  deposits  of  the  leaves  and  boughs  of 
the  trees  which  once  covered  it.  The  view  is  not  so  pic- 
turesque as  that  from  Signal  hill,  but  embraces  a  much 
greater  extent  of  country  to  the  south  and  east — &  wild, 
unsettled  chaos  of  dark,  wooded  hills  rolling  away  to  the 
Atlantic  headlands. 

We  walked  for  a  mile  or  more  (I  had  one  companion) 
along  the  ridge  to  get  a  better  view  of  Freshwater  harbor, 
which  lies  just  east  of  the  hill.  Rougher  travelling  could 
not  well  be.  The  summit  was  cut  and  gashed  both  laterally 
and  in  the  line  of  its  direction  by  chasms  of  various  depth 
and  breadth,  sometimes  forming  little  dells  with  cold  ponds 
at  the  bottom,  sometimes  so  concealed  by  a  dense  growth 
of  spruce  that  we  slipped  down  to  our  waists  among  the 
bony  branches  before  we  were  aware.  No  ordinary  boots 
or  garments  could  stand  more  than  three  days  of  such 
work.  At  last  we  reached  the  shoulder  of  a  hill  overlook- 
ing Freshwater  harbor,  which  we  found  to  be  merely  a 


A  TELBGKAPHIC   TRIP   TO   NBWPOUNDlJLNH  275 

long,  narrow  cove,  the  end  of  which  was  closed  by  a  sand- 
bar. There  were  two  or  three  fishermen's  huts  on  its  banks, 
and  a  narrow  strip  of  grazing  land  along  the  edge  of  the 
bleak  wilderness  in  which  it  was  iaclosed.  The  ocean  was 
dotted  with  fishing  craft,  sprinkled  all  over  its  blue  surface. 
On  a  fevorite  bank  inside  of  Cape  Spear  a  crowd  of  forty 
or  fifty  had  collected  together. 

Our  labor  was  repaid  by  stumbling  upon  a  path  which 
led  from  Freshwater  to  St.  Johns.  On  our  return  I  noticed 
a  lonely  cabin  among  the  thickets  on  the  northern  side  of 
the  hill,  and  left  the  path  to  pay  it  a  visit  and  learn  who 
the  people  were  who  lived  in  such  a  wild  place.  "We  made 
our  way  with  difliculty  through  the  trees  and  over  the 
chasms  until  we  reached  a  little  glen  where  some  clearing 
had  been  done  and  two  patches  of  weakly  potatoes  had 
been  planted,  in  the  black,  spongy  soil.  The  cabin  stood 
CD  a  stony  knob  just  above.  As  we  approached,  a  little 
girl  ran  in  and  closed  the  door,  and  a  dog  set  up  a  fierce 
clamor.  I  knocked,  and  after  some  delay  an  Irishwoman 
with  wild  eyes,  unkempt  hair,  and  a  dirty  face,  made  her 
appearance.  I  asked  her  for  a  drink ;  whereupon  she  pre- 
sently came  with  a  small  pitcher,  and  requested  us  to  wait 
until  she  should  go  to  a  spring  at  a  little  distance,  the 
water  of  which  was  superior  to  that  of  the  stream  near 
the  house.  When  she  returned  we  cittered  the  house, 
which  was  the  very  counterpart  of  an  Irish  cabin — ^the 
walls  of  stone  and  mud,  the  floor  of  earth,  and  the 
furniture  of  the  rudest  and  scantiest  sort.  Three  girla 
were  squatting  around  a  pile  of  smoky  brushwood  in 
the  chimney-place,  and  the  dog,  not  yet  satisfied  in  re- 


276  AT   HOMX  AND  ABBOAD. 

gard  to  our  characters,  stood  sullenly  growlins;  beside 
them. 

The  woman,  in  spite  of  her  appearance,  had  that  natural 
courtesy  which  springs  from  the  heart.  After  givinsr  u 
some  water  she  produced  a  slab  of  oaten  bread  an  inch 
thick,  and  strongly  resembling  a  specimen  of  gritstone. 
The  taste,  however,  was  better  than  the  appearance ;  and 
when  she  added  a  fiagraent  of  salt  codfish  and  insisted  on 
our  drinking  a  pot  of  coffee,  which  I  have  no  doubt  she 
had  prepared  for  her  own  and  her  children's  dinner,  we 
tbnnd  her  hospitality  by  no  means  to  be  despised.  The 
humble  fare  had  an  excellent  relish  after  our  scramble,  and 
the  hearty  good  will  with  which  it  was  offered  freshened 
the  sapless  codfish  and  smoothed  the  asperities  of  the  oat- 
meal slab.  A  large  gray  cat  came  into  the  cabin  while  we 
were  thus  engaged,  and  after  having  regarded  us  with  much 
gravity  for  a  few  moments,  marched  out  again.  "  Och !  " 
said  the  woman,  "  but  that  is  a  wonderful  cat,  sure.  There 
niver  was  such  a  cat  in  the  world  at  all  at  all.  She's  not 
afraid,  sir,  of  the  biggest  dog  that  ever  barked ;  she'll  fly 
at  his  throat,  an'  if  ye  didn't  take  her  off  she'd  kill  him 
miglity  quick,  I  tell  ye.  She  knows  everything  that's  goin' 
on,  and  she  understands  your  words  as  plain  as  any  Chris- 
tian. One  night  me  husband  and  meself  was  sittin'  in  thi* 
blessed  room,  an'  we  heard  a  scratchin'  like,  at  the  door 
6ays  my  husband,  '  Peggy,  I  think  there's  a  rat  comin'.' 
Well,  tlie  cat  was  up  in  the  loft,  and  she  heard  what  he 
said,  and  she  came  down  that  very  instant  and  waited  by 
the  door  till  the  rat  came  in.  It  was  a  dirty,  big  I'at, 
bigger  nor  the  oat  herself,  and  she  says  nothin'  but  lets  it 


A   TELEGKAPHIC   TBIT   TO   NEWFOtJNDLAND.  277 

go  dow  n  into  the  cellar  in  yon  corner ;  thin  she  heads  it  oft 
and  jumps  on  it.  Oh,  Holy  Virgin,  didn't  the  rat  roar  I 
And  it  was  the  king  of  the  rats,  so  my  husband  said,  and 
never  a  rat  put  his  ugly  nose  into  this  house  since  that 
night,  an'  its  four  years  ago." 

The  cat  was  the  object  of  the  woman's  boundless  enthu. 
siasm ;  and  her  stories  of  its  sagacity  were  so  amusing  that 
we  were  lavish  in  our  expressions  of  wonder  and  admira- 
tion, for  the  sake  of  encouraging  her.  "  She  a'most  fright- 
ens me  sometimes,"  she  added, — "  she  looks  into  my  face 
like  a  human  craytur,  an'  I  think  she'll  up  an'  spake  to  me. 
When  she  sees  anything  strange  she  jist  sits  down  on  her 
hinder  claws,  an'  she  houlds  her  fore  claws  on  each  side  of 
her  head,  an'  she  looks  straight  forrid  tiU  her  eyes  blaze, 
and  her  body  stretches  right  up,  gittin'  thinner  an'  thinner, 
an'  longer  an'  longer,  till  she's  full  a  yard  and  a  half  high." 
We  took  our  departure  after  this,  giving  the  woman  a 
small  recompense  for  her  stories,  her  oaten  bread,  and  her 
kindness,  and  receiving  the  invocation  of  the  Virgin's  bless- 
ing  in  return. 

In  the  evening  there  was  a  social  gathering  at  the  house 
of  Mr.  Stabb,  which  was  attended  by  nearly  all  our  guests. 
A  portion  of  our  company  were  conveyed  thither  in  car- 
riages ;  but  as  there  were  not  enough  of  the  latter  to  accom- 
modate all,  the  remainder  set  out  on  foot.  I  presume  it 
was  a  new  sight  for  St.  Johns  to  witness  fifteen  or  twenty 
gentlemen  and  ladies  in  evening  dress  promenading  the 
streets.  We  had  not  gone  far  before  we  were  aware  of  a 
sonvoy  of  attendants  or  admirers  rather  loud  than  respect- 
fuL    The  procession  increased  at  every  step ;  couriers  were 


278  AT   HOME   AND  ABBOAD. 

scut  in  advance  to  spread  the  news,  and  the  dark  side^treeia 
poured  little  rills  of  rowdyism  into  the  great  current  upon 
which  we  were  borne.  The  demonstration  was  confined  to 
whistles,  yells,  and  other  outcries,  with  occasional  remarks 
on  the  appearance  or  dress  of  some  of  our  party,  made  in 
:hat  quaint,  picturesque  style  which  is  peculiar  to  the 
gamins  of  London  and  New  York.  We  were  fearful  lest 
they  should  carry  the  joke  beyond  the  limits  of  endurance ; 
bu  the  crowd  was  a  thoroughly  good-humored  one,  and  on 
our  arrival  at  our  destination,  the  whole  convoy,  then  num- 
bering between  two  and  three  hundred,  united  in  giving  us 
three  cheers. 

The  hospitality  of  St.  Johns  never  flagged  up  to  the  last 
moment.  Our  party  lived  almost  entirely  on  shore,  in  a 
round  of  festivities,  which  were  very  delightful,  because 
they  were  spontaneous.  We  found  it  impossible  to  accept 
half  the  invitations  which  we  received,  from  sheer  want  of 
time.  We  all  retain  the  most  agreeable  recollections  of  our 
visit,  and  not  a  few  of  our  party  cherish  the  hope  of  return- 
ing at  some  future  day,  and  renewing  the  acquaintances  so 
auspiciously  commenced. 

As  we  were  passing  Chain  Rock  battery,  on  the  afternoon 
of  our  departure,  we  noticed  the  boats  of  Mr.  Huested  an- 
chored  over  the  Merlin  rock,  lying  in  the  channel,  the 
removal  of  which  had  been  completed  during  our  visit. 
Mr.  Huested  hailed  us,  saying  he  would  give  us  a  parting 
salute.  Nearly  all  the  passengers  were  gathered  on  the 
hurricane-deck  at  the  time,  looking  their  last  on  the  reced 
ing  harbor.  Thsre  was  a  movement  on  Mr.  Huested's 
boat ;  a  handling  of  wires ;  a  touch — and  then  followed  > 


A   TELEGRAPHIC  TKIP   TO   NEWPOUKDLAND.  279 

dumb,  heavy  explosion  which  shook  our  steamer — then  not 
fifty  yards  from  the  spot.  In  a  second  a  circle  of  water 
forty  or  fifty  feet  in  diameter  over  the  rock  was  violently 
agitated;  a  narrower  circle  was  hurled  into  the  air  to  the 
height  of  thirty  feet ;  and  from  the  centre  a  sheaf  of  silvery 
jets  sprang  seventy  or  eighty  feet  above  the  surface  of  the 
sea.  The  enormous  masses  of  water  curved  outwards  as 
they  ascended,  and  stood  for  an  instant  like  colossal  plumes 
waving  against  the  sun,  which  shone  through  their  tops 
and  blinded  our  eyes  with  the  diamond  lustre.  It  was  a 
Great  Geyser  of  the  sea — a  momentary  but  sublime  picture 
which  no  volcanic  well  of  the  Icelandic  valleys  can  surpass. 
As  it  fell,  the  shower  of  airy  spray  drifted  dow  u  upon  us, 
drenching  ourselves  and  the  decks,  but  creating  a  sudden 
rainbow  over  the  paddle-boxes — an  arch  of  promise  which 
spanned  our  course  for  an  instant,  and  melted'  into  air  with 
the  sound  of  our  parting  cheers. 


xxiii. 

A    TELEGRAPHIC    TRIP    TO    NEWFOUNDLAND. 

[AUGUST,   1866.] 


IV".. — ^A  Tramp  into  the  Intebtob. 

Aftbb  clearing  Cape  Spear,  on  Saturday  afternoon,  we 
stood  down  the  coast,  intending  to  stop  for  the  night  at  the 
Bay  of  Bulls,  about  twenty  miles  distant,  in  order  to  put 
the  steamer  in  proper  trim.  The  hills  rose  abruptly  from 
the  water's  edge  to  the  height  of  seven  or  eight  himdred 
feet,  their  ribs  and  shoulders  of  dark-red  rock  but  scantily 
clothed  with  a  covering  of  gray  moss,  sheep's  laurel,  anil 
dwarf  fir-trees.  There  are  neither  rocks  nor  shoals  on  this 
part  .of  the  coast,  and  the  steamer  might  have  sailed  to 
Cape  Race  within  a  gunshot  of  the  land.  The  deep  sea 
swells,  caught  in  the  innumerable  clefts  and  hollows  of  the 
rocks,  burst  upwards  in  enormous  jets  of  foam,  which  sub- 
sided to  rise  again  after  a  minute  or  two  o^  calm.    In  one 


A   TELEGKAPHIC   TRIP   TO   NEWi'OlTNDLAND.  281 

point  thore  was  a  spout  or  breathing-hole  through  the  rock, 
opening  about  fifty  feet  above  the  sea.  After  each  swell 
rolled  in,  a  slender  plume  of  snow-white  spray,  thirty  feet 
high,  shot  through  the  orifice  and  waved  a  moment  on  the 
brink  of  the  cliff.  The  picturesque  inequalities  of  the  coast 
nd  these  curious  and  graceful  caprices  of  the  sea  made  us 
forget  its  terrors  as  a  lee  shore,  and  its  bleakness  and  ste- 
rility as  a  place  for  the  dwelling  of  man. 

We  had  a  very  strong  south-west  wind  to  contend  against, 
with  a  long,  rolling  head-swell,  which  was  severely  felt  by 
Jill  who  had  indulged  in  the  late  hours  and  sumptuous  sup- 
pers of  St.  Johns.  It  was  a  partial  relief  when  we  rounded 
into  the  Bay  of  Bulls  and  ran  through  a  mile  of  smooth 
water  to  its  head.  The  harbor  is  nearly  elliptical  in  shape. 
The  northern  shore  rises  into  a  high  conical  peak,  partly 
covered  with  stunted  spruce  and  fir-trees,  and  sloping  on  its 
western  side  into  a  range  of  hills  which  sweep  like  an 
amphitheatre  around  the  bay.  The  village  is  built  around 
the  head  of  the  harbor,  and  contains  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  houses.  The  hills  behind  it  have  been  cleared  and 
turned  into  fields  of  barley  and  grass.  The  place,  with  its 
wooden  church,  its  fish-flakes  along  the  water,  its  two  or 
three  large  storehouses,  its  yellow  fields  of  late  hay,  and 
the  dark,  dwarfish  woods  behind,  reminded  me  strongly  of 
a  view  on  one  of  the  Norwegian  Qords.  A  large  white 
house  was  pointed  out  to  me  as  the  residence  of  a  lady  who 
is  godmother  to  thirty-nine  children — a  fact  which  shows 
either  that  children  are  very  plenty  or  godmothers  very 
scarce. 

As  the  signs  of  good  weather  continued  and  the  ship 


282  AT  HOMB  AND  ABROAD. 

proved  to  be  in  tolerable  trim,  we  landed  a  St.  Johi>s  pflot 
whom  we  had  taken  aboard  for  the  harbor,  and  immediately 
put  to  sea.  As  long  as  it  was  light  we  kept  near  the  coast, 
and  at  dusk  passed  the  bay  or  cove  of  Ferryland,  where 
iwc  of  the  Arctic's  boats  came  to  land,  with  the  few  who 
were  saved  by  that  means.  The  shores  are  here  low  and 
green,  but  the  light  was  too  indistinct  for  objects  to  be 
readily  perceived.  After  night  we  stood  a  little  further 
from  the  coast,  still  keeping  near  it,  in  spite  of  a  fog  which 
was  at  times  so  dense  that  nothing  could  be  seen  a  ship's 
length  distant.  At  daylight  Cape  Pine  was  in  sight ;  Capt' 
Chapeaurouge,  forty  miles  off,  showed  itself  once  or  twice 
during  the  forenoon ;  and  before  sunset  we  had  again 
passed  St.  Pierre  and  Miquelon.  The  sea  subsided  a  little 
in  the  afternoon,  and  nearly  all  were  on  deck  at  simset  to 
watch  one  of  the  most  superb  skies  of  the  North  fade 
more  beautifully,  through  its  hues  of  orange,  amber-green, 
and  carmine,  than  all  the  dolphins  that  ever  died. 

Early  on  Monday  morning  we  saw  Cape  Ray,  and,  run- 
ning westward  along  the  coast,  made  the  rocky  point  off 
Port-aux-Basques  in  an  hour  or  two.  Through  the  glass 
we  saw  the  little  steamer  Victoria  at  anchor  in  the  harbor 
and  the  top-masts  of  a  three-masted  vessel.  All  was  anxiety 
on  board  to  know  whether  she  was  the  long-expected  bark 
Sarah  L.  Bryant,  with  the  submarine  cable  on  board,  when, 
five  or  six  miles  out  of  port,  a  boat  approached  us,  and  Capt. 
Sluyter  of  the  Victoria  confirmed  the  welcome  news.  The 
James  Adger,  owing  to  her  length,  reached  a  good  anchor- 
ing-ground  at  the  head  of  the  harbor  with  some  difficulty. 
W"e  soon  ascertained  that  tl  e  machinery  requisite  for  paying 


A    TELEGRAPHIC    TRIP    TO     NEWFOUNDLAND,  283 

out  the  cable  had  not  vet  been  put  up,  and  the  work  could 
not  be  commenced  for  a  day  or  two.  Mr.  Cooper,  therefore, 
determined  to  cross  to  Cape  North,  the  Cape  Breton  ter- 
minus, and  select  a  proper  place  to  bring  the  cable  ashore. 
As  soon  as  this  announcement  was  made,  a  number  of 
our  passengers  prepared  to  go  ashore,  and  spend  the  inter- 
vening time  in  becoming  acquainted  with  the  village  and 
the  neighboring  country.  But  short  time  was  given  us  to 
fit  out,  and  I  barely  managed  to  snatch  a  shawl,  a  sketch- 
book, a  few  ship's  biscuits,  and  a  handful  of  red  herring, 
before  the  boat  pushed  off  with  us.  A  party  of  four — Mr. 
Sluyter,  Mr.  O'Brien,  Mr.  Middlebrook,  and  myself — deter- 
mined to  make  a  foray  into  the  hills  behind  the  village,  in 
the  hope  of  shooting  a  cariboo,  or  reindeer;  and  our  first 
care,  on  landing  at  the  piles  of  codfish  before  Mr.  Wad- 
dell's  house,  was  to  procure  guns,  supplies,  and  guides. 
Mr.  Waddell — who  acted  as  if  his  house  and  all  that  was 
in  it  belonged  as  much  to  ourselves  as  to  him — not  only 
gave  us  a  good  dinner  of  bean-soup  and  duff,  but  all  his 
fowling-pieces,  ammunition,  and  equipments.  He  even  con- 
sented to  keep  tally  of  the  quintals  of  dried  codfish  which 
his  men  were  carrying  on  board  of  a  schooner  lying  below 
his  storehouse,  in  order  that  his  tally-man,  John  Butt  by 
name,  might  act  as  our  pilot  over  the  marshy  hills.  Butt 
was  a  stout  St.  Johnsman,  with  a  strong,  tanned  face,  clear, 
light-blue  eyes,  and  a  shock-head  of  curled  and  grizzly  hair. 
At  my  suggestion  he  procured  two  other  men — Genge,  a 
bony  fisherman,  with  prominent  nose  and  enormous  sandy 
whiskers,and  his  step-son  Robert,  a  bright-eyed  youth  of 
twenty-two.     We  added  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  dried  cod- 


284  AT   HOMi:  AND  ABROAD. 

fish  to  our  slender  stock  of  provisions — ^trusting  to  oai 
muskets  for  a  further  supply — ^and  turned  our  backs  on  the 
village  and  our  faces  towards  the  misty  range  of  Cape  Ray 
Highlands. 

Following  a  bridle-track  beside  the  telegraph  poles,  over 
a  black,  quaky  soil,  we  soon  reached  one  of  the  bights  of 
the  harbor,  where  Butt  had  a  boat  moored  to  the  rock& 
He  proposed  to  cross  to  the  opposite  shore  in  order  to 
avoid  a  tedious  circuit  around  the  head  of  the  harbor ;  and, 
as  the  water  was  still,  we  all  embarked  in  his  tight  little 
skiff,  which  sank  to  withhi  two  inches  of  her  gunwale.  By 
careful  trimming  she  carried  us  safely  over,  when  the  men 
drew  her  ashore  at  the  head  of  a  narrow  inlet,  and  thrust 
the  oars  into  a  thicket  of  dwarf  fir-trees.  We  now  took 
up  the  line  of  march — climbing  a  glen  embraced  by  two 
gray  and  ragged  hills,  the  sides  of  which  were  furrowed 
with  deeply-worn  gullies,  while  pools  of  dark-brown  water 
filled  up  every  inequality  of  the  soil.  The  footing  was  of 
spongy  moss,  mixed  with  a  sort  of  furze,  into  which  our 
feet  sank  to  a  depth  of  three  or  four  inches  at  every  step. 
In  the  innumerable  hollows  which  crossed  our  path  the 
ground  was  often  completely  saturated  with  water,  and 
occasionally  bridged  over  with  some  of  those  hardy  plants 
whose  tough  fibre  in"  these  latitudes  rivals  that  of  the 
numan  frame.  In  other  places  the  stubborn,  stunted 
growth  of  spruce  and  f  r  so  filled  the  lateral  clefts  across 
the  hills  that  I  could  walk  on  their  tops,  at  the  risk,  it  is 
true,  of  making  a  false  step  and  slipping  down  to  my  waist 
among  the  horny  branches.  There  was  no  path,  nor  any. 
thing  that  would  serve  as  a  landmark ;  for  each  dip  or  ris* 


A  TKLKGBAPHIC  TBIP  TO  NBWFOUNDLAITD.  285 

of  the  hills  seemed  the  counterpart  of  that  we  had  just 
seen.  Gray  rock,  gray  moss,  dark  spruce  thicket,  and  dark 
tarn,  were  mingled  and  mottled  together  so  bewilderingly^ 
with  such  endless  repetitions  of  the  same  forms  and  hues, 
that  I  should  have  found  it  difficult  to  lay  down  a  clue  that 
eould  be  readily  taken  up  again.  I  noticed  that  Butt, 
under  whose  guidance  we  had  placed  ourselves,  chose  his 
course  rather  by  the  compass  than  by  the  appearance  of 
the  objects  around  us. 

We  had  proceeded  three  or  four  miles  in  this  way, 
making  frequent  detours  in  order  to  get  around  the 
long,  deep  ponds  of  black  water,  or  the  deeper  ravines 
whose  walls  of  perpendicular  gray  rock  effectually  barred 
our  passage,  when  a  shot  from  one  of  our  party  gave  the 
first  signal  of  game.  A  covey  of  grouse  had  been  started, 
and  a  short  but  lively  chase  over  the  rough  ground  resulted 
in  our  bagging  five  of  the  six  birds  which  arose.  Two  or 
three  of  the  more  enthusiastic  sportsmen  followed  over  the 
higher  ridges  in  search  for  more,  while  the  rest  of  u?  - 
plodded  on  towards  the  highlands,  eager  for  a  sight  of 
eariboo,  and  hurried  by  Butt's  desire  to  reach  a  good  camp- 
ing-ground before  dark.  The  deep  carpets  or  cushions  of 
plants  and  decaying  vegetable  mould  over  which  we  walked 
were  studded  with  berries  of  various  kinds,  all  of  which 
the  men  plucked  and  ate.  There  was  a  small  plant  with  a 
dark-purple  leaf  and  an  orange-colored  pulpy  fruit  about 
the  size  of  a  cherry,  Avhich  they  termed  "  bake-apples  (in 
reality  the  Hubus  chcememorus,  or  multeherry,  of  Norway,) 
the  flavor  of  which,  containing  a  mild,  pleasant  acid,  really 
resembled  that  of  a  frozen  apple.    The  whortleberry  Avhich 


286  AT  HOME  A2)D  ABROAD. 

they  called  "hurts"  or  "whorts,"  was  not  more  than  two 
or  three  inches  ui  height,  and  the  fruit  was  scanty.  The 
"  cranberry,"  growing  on  a  short,  green  moss,  was  about 
the  size  and  appearance  of  a  juniper  berry,  with  a  pungent, 
bitter,  but  not  unpleasant  taste.  There  was  another  fruit, 
called  the  "  stoneberry,"  a  bunch  of  small,  scarlet  berriea, 
which  are  much  less  insipid  to  the  eye  than  to  the  palate. 

We  were  at  last  so  far  in  advance  of  the  sportsmen  that 
we  were  obliged  to  halt  while  one  of  the  men  ascended  the 
nearest  hill  to  look  for  them.  By  this  time  we  were  five 
or  six  miles  from  the  harbor,  and  the  scenery  began  to 
assume  a  very  difierent  character.  We  overlooked  a  deep 
valley,  the  bottom  of  which  consisted  of  woods  of  spruce, 
fir,  and  larch  trees,  interspersed  with  open,  grassy  bottoms. 
A  range  of  dark,  wooded  hills  rose  opposite,  down  a  gorge, 
in  the  midst  of  which  a  large  stream  fell  in  a  succession  of 
sparkling  cascades,  their  noise  reaching  even  to  where  we 
sat.  Beyond  all  towered  the  long  blue  rampart  of  the 
Cape  Highlands.  I  enjoyed  this  wild  and  lonely  landscape 
for  a  time,  but  the  sportsmen  did  not  appear,  and  Robert, 
who  lay  at  full  length  on  the  moss,  rolling  over  in  his 
search  for  "  hurts,"  expressed  a  wish  to  go  down  to  a  pond 
below  us  and  "  strip."  I  offered  to  accompany  him,  and 
we  soon  reached  the  edge  of  the  dark,  sepia-colored  water. 
It  was  shallow,  with  a  deposit  of  snuffy  mould  at  the 
bottom,  sprinkled  with  yellow  pond-lilies,  and  so  cold  as  to 
make  my  skin  shrink,  but  I  plunged  in  and  endured  it  for 
five  minutes.  Robert,  who  had  the  real  Newfoundland 
nature,  and  was,  I  have  no  doubt,  web-footed,  flound(!red 
dbout  for  three  times  as  long,  splashing,  blowing,  and 


A   TELEGEAPHIC  TBIP  TO   NBWFOirNDLAND.  287 

stirring  up  tlie  deposits  of  the  pond  until  his  sinewy, 
well-knit  body  showed  through  the  water  like  new  bronze. 
We  met  no  more  game  aftei-  this  except  gnats  and  mus- 
ketoes,  which  became  both  plentiful  and  venomous  as  we 
descended  into  the  valley.  The  mountain  sti'eam  we  had 
■een  from  the  height  was  a  tributary  to  Grand  Bay  Brook, 
a  rivulet  which  empties  into  the  sea  between  Port-aux- 
Basques  and  Cape  Ray.  The  ground  was  boggy  where 
we  approached  the  brook,  and  there  was  no  convenient 
fordage ;  whereupon  Butt  conducted  us  about  two  miles 
further  to  the  eastward,  near  an  inclosed  mountain  meadow 
called  the  Green  Gardens,  where  we  came  upon  a  dense 
wood  of  well-grown  spruce  and  fir  trees,  sloping  down  to  a 
rapid  in  the  stream.  The  view  from  the  rocks  in  it3  bed 
was  charming.  Wild,  dark,  ragged  woods,  opening  to 
the  sunset,  overhung  us  on  either  hand ;  in  front-,  up  the 
stream,  rose  a  cliff  of  silvery  rock ;  and  the  summits  of  the 
unmolested  hills  on  both  sides  towered  above  the  trees  and 
Mbut  us  out  from  the  world.  Trout-lines  and  hooks  were 
at  once  produced,  and  while  Butt,  Genge,  and  I  went  into 
the  woods  to  make  our  camp,  the  others  made  flies  of 
grouse-feathers  and  took  their  stations  beside  the  eddies 
of  the  water.  We  three  selected  a  dry  place  on  the  slope, 
felled  some  trees,  collected  fuel,  started  a  gay  fire  of 
esinous  logs  and  branches,  and  trimmed  spruce  boughs 
nough  to  make  us  an  elastic,  fragrant  bed,  six  inches  deep. 
The  musketoes  had  been  terrible  in  the  bed  of  the  brook, 
but  when  the  draught  of  the  blazing  logs  began  to  toss 
the  branches  above  our  heads,  they  speedily  disappeared. 
Our  caterers  came  up  at   dusk,  bitten,  weary,  wet,  and 


888  AT    HOME    AND   ABBOAlf. 

hungry,  and  ready  to  give  a  hearty  assent  to  my  deslft- 
ration  that  there  is  no  completer  comfort  than  a  seat  by 
the  camp-fire — no  sweeter  rest  than  when  the  boughs  of 
the  forest  are  both  our  bed  and  canopy. 

The  five  grouse  were  skewered  and  spitted  on  long  sticki 
gtuck  into  the  ground,  the  twelve  small  trout  laid  to  broil 
on  a  flat  stone  placed  on  the  coals,  the  hard  pilot  bread 
distributed,  and  we  gradually  made  a  supper  all  too  slender 
for  our  needs.  But  the  game  had  not  been  so  abundant  aa 
we  anticipated ;  it  was  seven  miles  yet  to  the  "  ravage  "  of 
the  cariboo,  with  the  wind  blowing  off  sea  and  carrying 
our  scent  a  league  before  us ;  and  so  we  laid  the  loaf  and 
the  codfish  aside  for  breakfast,  and  turned  to  the  pipe  for 
solace.  Wrapped  in  our  shawls,  we  formed  the  spokes  of 
a  Avheel  whereof  the  fire  was  the  blazing  centre,  while  Butt 
and  Genge  dragged  up  log  after  log  of  dead  fir-wood,  and 
cast  them  upon  the  pile  until  the  clouds  of  snapping  sparks 
rose  above  the  tree-tops.  The  dense,  dusky  foliage,  lighted 
from  beneath,  glowed  like  a  golden  fretwork  against  the 
jet-black  patches  of  sky  above  us,  and  the  mossy  fir-trunk 
and  silvery  birch-boles  seemed  to  grow  transparent  and 
luminous  as  they  sprang  out  of  the  darkness.  Warmed  by 
the  magical  blaze,  spiced  by  the  odor  of  the  crushed 
houghs,  and  soothed  by  the  mild  influence  of  the  Cuban 
lierb,  I  lay,  for  a  long  time,  unable  to  sleep,  looking  on  the 
yellow-bearded  followers  of  Biorne  and  Lief  Ericsson  aa 
they  once  clustered  around  their  camp-fires  in  this  their 
ancient  Helluland.  Eight  or  nine  centuries  have  passed 
away  since  their  Norse-dragons  anchored  in  its  deep  baya 
and  rock-guarded  coves  ;  but  except  the  stumps  of  two  oi 


▲  TELEGRAPHIC  TRIP   TO   NEWFOtJNDLAJID.  289 

three  trees  in  the  woods  near  us,  there  was  no  evidence 
that  onr  mountain  soUtude  had  since  that  time  known  the 
presence  of  civilized  man. 

The  logs  at  last  fell  into  heaps  of  red  coal ;  Butt,  who 
had  climbed  into  the  top  of  a  tree,  where  he  sat  singing  sea- 
songs,  descended  and  coiled  himself  around  its  foot ;  the 
other  men  lay  on  their  backs  and  slept  silently,  and  I  too 
forgot  Biorne  and  his  Norsemen  and  slept  among  the  fra- 
grant boughs.  The  night  passed  away  silently,  and  dawn 
came  gray  and  misty,  threatening  rain,  over  the  woods. 
Our  fishers  went  down  to  the  brook  again,  and  Butt  took 
to  the  hills  with  a  gun ;  but  after  an  hour  the  latter 
came  back  empty-handed,  and  the  former  with  eight  small 
trout.  We  roasted  the  codfish,  which  was  wonderfully 
salt,  carefully  divided  the  loaf,  distributed  the  trout  (one 
apiece),  and  made  a  rather  unsatisfactory  breakfast.  The 
fact  is,  the  trip,  as  a  sporting  excursion,  had  failed,  although 
it  had  amply  repaid  us  in  all  other  respects.  Our  steamer 
wag  expected  to  return  at  noon,  and  the  necessity  of  reach- 
ing Port-aux-Basques  by  that  time  prevented  us  from 
penetrating  further  into  the  hills.  Besides  there  were 
8i)rinkles  of  rain,  and  other  tokens  of  a  bad  day.  We 
therefore  decided  while  breakfasting  to  take  the  home- 
ward trail.  Familiarity  with  salt  cod  had  bred  contempt 
in  our  men,  and  one  of  them  threw  his  share  into  the 
bushes,  with  the  exclamation :  "  It's  downright  murder  to 
eat  t?iat ! "  But  Genge  wisely  remarked  that  it  was  the 
best  thing  for  short  allowance,  ''because,"  said  he,  "it 
makes  you  so  dry  that  you're  always  keeping  yourself 
filled  up  with  water  " 


290  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

"Diere  liad  been  a  heavy  dew,  and  the  moss  was  like  • 
wet  sponge.  We  had  rather  a  soaking  return  tramp  of  it, 
often  stopping  to  drink  of  the  brown  rills,  or  to  refresh  our 
palates  with  the  acid  "  bake-apples,"  yet  never  seeing  a 
grouse  or  a  hare.  The  clouds,  after  some  ominous  leakings, 
lifted,  and  the  wind  blew  cold  from  the  north-west. 
"While  resting  on  a  rock  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the 
harbor,  we  were  startled  by  the  sound  of  an  engine-whistle 
and  the  blowing  of  steam  from  an  escape-pipe.  Supposing 
it  to  be  the  James  Adger,  we  hurried  on  at  a  breathless 
pace,  plunging  into  gullies  and  teaiing  through  thickets  in 
breakneck  style,  until  an  opening  in  the  holes  showed  us 
that  the  soimd  proceeded  from  the  little  steamer  Victoria, 
which  was  just  moving  out  of  the  harbor.  She  was  on 
her  way  to  Cape  Ray,  ten  miles  distant,  to  select  the  initial 
point  of  the  submarine  cable.  Our  own  transfer  across  the 
harbor  was  safely  accomplished — the  water  being  quite 
smooth — and  we  reached  Mr.  Waddell's  house  in  time  to 
partake  of  the  very  good  dinner  which  his  broad-shouldered 
nnd  red- whiskered  cook  had  prepared.  I  here  had  an  op 
portunity  of  tasting  calahogtis^  the  national  beverage  of 
Newfoundland.  It  is  a  mixture  of  rum  and  spruce  beer  in 
nearly  equal  quantities,  and  has  a  better  flavor  than  one 
would  suspect  from  the  ingredients.  The  spruce  beer,  pure, 
is  made  from  the  young  boughs  of  the  tree  boiled  with  mo- 
asses,  and  is  just  the  beverage — sparkling,  resinous,  sweet, 
avid  bitter — to  noiirish  so  virile  and  vigorous  a  people. 

In  the  aftenioon  I  went  off  to  the  bark  Sarah  L.  Bryant, 
to  see  the  preparations  which  had  been  made  for  paying  out 
the  cable.     I  never   saw'  a  vessel   in   a  worse   condition. 


A  TBLEGEAPHIC   TRIP   TO    NEWPOUNDLAITO.  291 

Nearly  all  her  bulkheads  and  stanchions  had  been  out  away 
to  make  room  for  the  two  immense  coils  of  forty  and  thirty 
five  miles,  into  which  the  iron-corded  cable  was  bent,  Ac 
cording  to  the  captain's  account  there  never  was  a  more 
unmanageable  cargo,  and  he  declared  he  would  much  rather 
ship  a  load  of  live  eels.  Its  activity  was  incredible.  He 
was  obliged  to  cut  up  all  his  spare  spars  to  shore  up  and  sup- 
port the  slippery  bulk ;  yet,  in  spite  of  all  his  precautions,  it 
once  or  twice  slipped  through  his  finger?  and  came  near  cap- 
sizing his  bark.  On  one  occasion  he  was  obliged  to  turn 
completely  about  and  scud  before  the  wind  for  nearly  two 
days.  Under  such  circumstances  it  is  not  remarkable  that 
he  was  forty-eight  days  in  making  the  passage,  but  very 
lucky  that  he  was  able  to  make  it  at  all. 


XXIV. 

A    TELEGRAPHIC    TRIP    TO    NEWFOUNDLAND. 

(AUGUST,   1866.] 


V. — Cape  Rat,  and  the  NEWFOUNDLAin)  Fishebmbn, 

It  was  dusk  on  Tuesday  evening  before  the  James  Adgei 
made  her  appearance  off  Port-aux-Basques,  returning  from 
Cape  Breton.  I  had  made  arrangements  to  pass  the  night 
in  one  of  the  houses  on  shore,  and  as  the  fog  was  beginning 
to  gather,  and  the  Victoria  had  not  yet  made  her  appear- 
ance,  judged  that  I  should  be  safe  in  remaining.  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Sayre,  who  had  made  a  journey  to  Cape  Ray  the 
previous  day,  and  camped  aU  night  in  a  thicket  of  spruce, 
had  found  accommodations  with  our  friend  Butt,  and  Genge 
offered  me  similar  hospitality.  Both  of  these  men  offered 
OS  every  kindness  in  their  power — bringing  us  their  heavy, 
well-oiled  boots  and  thick  woollen  socks  in  exchange  for  our 
own,  which  were  thorouglily  soaked  by  our  tramp  over  the 
hills.     Their  rough,  hearty  bluntness  assured   me  that  1 


A  TALEGBAFHIC  TEIP   TO   NlSWl"OUin)LANl).  293 

should  be  welcome  to  all  they  could  offer,  and  when  there 
is  warmtli  within  a  hut  I  care  not  how  rude  its  exterior 
may  be.  All  our  other  passengers  had  gone  off  on  board 
the  steamer,  but  I  greatly  preferred  remaining  ashore. 

The  Victoria  came  in  about  ten  o'clock,  and  the  tog 
con  afterwards  became  so  dense  that  we  were  satisfied 
either  of  the  vessels  would  venture  out  of  port.  I  called 
t  Butt's  house,  where,  in  a  neat  kitchen  with  an  ample 
fireplace,  we  found  Mrs.  Butt  nursing  a  rosy  child  of  fifteen 
months  old,  while  a  son  of  twelve  or  thirteen  years  sat  at 
the  table  reading  the  Bible.  The  sounds  of  children's 
voices — and  there  were  many  of  them — came  from  a  sleep- 
ing-room adjoining.  Everything  about  the  house  was  neat 
and  orderly,  and  there  was  an  appearance  of  comfort  which 
I  had  not  looked  for.  Genge  lived  in  a  smaller  cottage,  the 
inside  of  which  was  blackened  by  the  smoke  of  a  wide  chim- 
ney, and  dimly  lighted  by  a  swinging  oil-lamp.  There  were 
broad  benches  on  either  side  which  evidently  did  duty  as 
beds.  The  floor  was  of  earth,  and  the  only  furniture  was 
a  table,  two  old  chairs,  some  shelves,  and  a  large,  dingy 
cupboard  in  the  corner.  Mrs.  Genge  shook  hands  with  me 
and  bade  me  welcome,  and  on  my  saying  that  I  should  be 
content  with  a  corner  to  spread  my  shawl  in,  her  husband 
turned  to  me  with  "Don't  talk  about  comers;  we'll  try  to 
make  you  comfortable."  I  was  pleased  to  see  that  my 
presence  did  not  embarrass  the  good  family  in  the  least,  ant 
that,  while  they  showed  me  every  kindness,  I  occasioned  n 
apparent  change  in  the  household. 

I  was  ushered  into  a  little  side-room,  whi.;h  to  my  surprisa 
contained  a  curtained  bed,  white  and  perfectly  clean,  9 


294  AT  HOME  ASD  ABROAD. 

table  upon  which  lay  a  number  of  books,  a  looking-glass,  I 
wash-bowl  and  a  pitcher  of  stone-ware,  with  a  fine  liner 
towel,  combs,  brushes,  soap,  and  all  ordinary  appliances  of 
the  toilet.  Everything  in  the  room  was  scrupulously  neat^ 
w.d  arranged  with  a  knowledge  and  propriety  which  1 
should  never  have  expected  to  find  in  such  A  place.  Among 
he  books  were  Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe's  "  Sunny  Memories," 
Chambers's  "  Information  for  the  People,"  and  some  novels, 
besides  a  large  family  Bible.  I  was  so  tired  that  I  inmie- 
diately  tumbled  into  bed  and  slept  so  soundly  that  when  I 
awoke  at  five  in  the  morning  I  had  some  difiiculty  in 
ascertaining  where  I  was.  Genge,  who  was  already  stirring, 
accompanied  me  to  Butt's,  where  I  found  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Sayre,  whose  experience  was  similar  to  mine.  They  had 
been  received  with  the  same  kindness,  and  treated  to  the 
same  unexpected  comforts.  Our  hosts  refused  to  accept 
the  slightest  compensation,  and  we  were  only  able  to 
repay  them  indirectly,  by  engaging  them  to  row  us  out  to 
the  steamer. 

,<,,The  people  of  Port-aux-Basques  are  unusual  specimens 
of  ripe  and  healthy  physical  vigor,  and  they  possess  those 
simple  virtues  which  naturally  belong  to  such  an  organiza- 
tion. Though  their  education  is  very  deficient,  they  are 
lihrewd  and  quick-witted ;  open  and  trustful  unless  deceived, 
when  they  become  excessively  suspicious ;  generous,  honest, 
hospitable,  and  enduring ;  remarkably  fi"ee  from  immorality 
and  crime  notwithstanding — ^perhaps  on  account  of— their 
distance  from  efficient  legal  authorities ;  and  I  do  not  know 
any  other  community  which  surpasses  them  in  sterling 
manly  qualities.    They  are  not  only  very  healthy  but  very 


A  TKLEGBAPHIC   TRIP    TO    NEWFOUNDLAIO).  296 

prolific ;  and  the  place,  like  many  others  on  the  coast,  has 
grown  up  almost  entirely  from  the  natural  increase  of  the 
first  families  who  settled  there.  This  accounts  for  the  fact 
that  the  population  of  the  fishing  villages  on  the  southern 
and  western  sides  of  the  island  are  nearly  all  related  to 
each  other.  I  heard  it  stated  that  in  some  of  the  remote 
settlements  which  began  with  a  single  family,  the  brothers 
and  sisters  formed  incestuous  marriages ;  but  I  was  glad  to 
hear  this  story  positively  denied  afterwards.  The  inter- 
course between  the  fishing-ports  is  carried  on  almost  entirely 
by  sea,  on  account  of  the  rugged  character  of  the  land- 
travel.  There  is  a  communication  in  winter  between  Port- 
aux-Basques  and  St.  George's  bay,  over  the  Cape  Ray 
highlands ;  but  it  is  very  rarely  travelled  by  any  except  the 
Indians — a  branch  of  the  Micmac  tribe,  who  have  emi- 
grated hither  from  Cape  Breton.  The  distance  across 
is  about  sixty  miles,  which  they  travel  occasionally  in  two 
days. 

The  Victoria,  which  had  returned  in  the  night,  brought 
word  that  a  place  had  been  selected  just  inside  of  Cape 
Ray  as  the  starting-point  of  the  submarine  cable,  the 
materials  for  a  house  landed,  and  the  frame  already 
erected.  A  deep  cove  in  the  harbor  of  Port-aux-Basques 
was  at  first  cliosen,  on  account  of  its  sheltered  situation, 
and  the  circumstance  of  the  cable  falling  at  once  into  deep 
water ;  but  as  Cape  Ray  was  three  or  four  miles  nearer 
Cape  Breton,  Mr.  Field  and  Mr.  Canning  went  thither  in  a 
boat  on  Monday,  and  fixed  upon  a  spot  at  the  head  of  Cape 
Ray  harbor,  where  there  was  a  beach  of  soft  sand  somet 
what  guarded  from  the  ice  which  lodges  here  in  great 


296  AT  HOMB  AXD  ABBOAO. 

qnantities  during  the  winter  and  spring,  by  groups  ol 
rocks  on  both  sides.  The  next  day  the  frame  and  complete 
materials  for  a  house  were  taken  up  by  the  Victoria,  toge- 
ther with  a  number  of  passengers  who  offered  themselvee 
as  amateur  carpenters.  On  reaching  the  bay  the  timben 
were  lashed  together  as  a  raft  and  towed  near  the  shorei, 
where,  on  account  of  the  violence  of  the 'surf,  it  parted, 
leaving  Captain  Sluyter  and  two  or  three  others,  who  were 
on  it,  to  float  to  the  beach  on  the  pieces.  The  boat's  load 
of  passengers  succeeded  in  landing,  and  immediately  went 
to  work  in  company  with  the  fishermen  of  the  place  and 
their  dogs  to  rescue  the  timbers.  Boards,  beams,  rafters 
and  bundles  of  shingles  were  caught  and  dragged  out  of 
the  surf;  and  in  the  course  of  two  or  three  hours  all  the 
materials  of  the  raft  were  got  ashore.  In  this  work  the 
dogs  rendered  capital  'service — ^plunging  boldly  into  the  sea 
and  seizing  npon  every  stick  which  they  could  manage. 
Sometimes  two  of  them  would  take  a  plank  between  them^ 
and,  watching  the  proper  moment  with  a  truly  human 
sagacity,  bring  it  to  the  beach  on  the  top  of  a  breaker  and 
there  deliver  it  into  the  hands  of  their  masters.  It  was 
really  wonderful  to  behold  the  strength,  courage,  and 
industry  of  these  poor  beasts,  who,  when  but  few  frag- 
ments were  left,  fought  savagely  for  the  possession  of  them, 
and  even  tried  to  drown  each  other. 

By  night,  with  the  assistance  of  the  people,  the  frame  of 
the  house  was  raised,  and  the  Victoria  returned  to  Port- 
aux-Basques.  She  started  again  the  next  day  at  noon,  with 
Mr.  Field  and  another  company  of  amateur  carpenters  on 
board,  leaving  the  James  Adger  to  follow  with  the  bark  ii 


A   TELEUBAPHIC  TEIP   TO   NEWFOUUDLAJTD.  20^ 

tow  as  800U  as  the  weather  would  allow.  While  waiting 
on  board  the  Victoria  I  witnessed  the  performance  of  some 
of  the  Cape  Ray  dogs,  two  of  which  were  on  board.  If  a 
stick  was  thrown  into  the  water,  they  would  spring  over 
the  rail,  seize  it,  swim  around  the  vessel  or  chase  other 
floating  objects,  until  some  one  let  down  the  bight  of  a  rope 
over  the  side,  when  the  dog  would  immediately  make  for 
it,  place  both  fore-paws  over  it,  thrust  his  head  forward  and 
hold  on  until  he  was  drawn  upon  deck.  One  of  these  dogs 
had  followed  the  Victoria's  boat  the  day  previous  and  was 
taken  on  board.  This  little  circumstance  produced  a 
marked  change  in  the  temper  of  the  inhabitants  of  Cape 
Ray.  They  became  shy,  suspicious,  and  reserved;  and 
nothing  but  the  explicit  declaration  of  Mr.  Field — whi«h 
was  afterwards  carried  into  effect — that  the  dog  should  be 
returned  or  his  full  value  paid  the  owner,  restored  their 
confidence. 

We  ran  up  the  coast,  passed  Grand  Bay,  the  embouchure 
of  the  stream  on  which  we  had  encamped,  and  in  an  hour 
and  a  half  came  to  in  front  of  the  six  or  eight  fishermen's 
huts  which  constitute  the  settlement  of  Cape  Ray.  I  found 
that  the  lofty  isolated  peak  which  I  had  taken  to  be  the 
Cape  itself  was  four  or  five  miles  inland,  separated  from  the 
point  by  a  low,  undulating  promontory  covered  with  dense, 
stunted  woods.  Two  other  peaks  appeared,  retreating 
along  the  western  coast,  and  behind  them  aU  towered  the 
dark  Cape  Highlands,  twelve  hundred  feet  in  height.  We 
were  carried  ashore  in  the  Victoria's  boat,  and  landed  at 
the  head  of  a  little  cove  where  the  boats  of  the  fishermen 
were  pulled  up  in  front  of  their  huts,  after  which   the 


298  AT  HOMB   AND   ABBOAD. 

steamei'  returned  to  Poi-t-aux-Basques  to  assist  in  bringing 
up  the  bark. 

Following  a  r-»ugh,  boggy  path  along  the  shore,  some- 
times on  the  brink  of  black  cliflfs  overhanging  the  breakers, 
a  walk  of  a  mile  conducted  us  to  the  new  telegraph-building 
on  a  grassy  knoll  near  the  head  of  the  bay.  We  found  all 
the  male  population  of  the  place  employed  in  completing  it, 
under  the  direction  of  old  Tapp,  the  patriarch  of  the  fish- 
ermen, and  a  Cape  Ray  carpenter.  Some  were  nailing  on 
clapboards,  others  shingling  the  roo^  and  others  digging  a 
trench  from  the  front  of  the  house  to  the  beach,  while 
planks,  beams,  bundles  of  shingles,  boxes,  and  carpenters' 
tools  were  scattered  around  on  all  sides.  Our  first  thought 
was  for  dinner,  as  we  had  taken  the  precaution  to  carry  a 
box  of  provisions  with  us.  Seated  on  the  shingles,  with  the 
fresh  sea-breeze  blowing  over  us,  and  the  keen  edge  of  our 
sea-appetites  not  in  the  least  blunted,  the  cold  beefsteak, 
red  herring,  pilot-bread,  and  other  delicacies  rapidly  dis- 
appeared. But  we  were  soon  summoned  to  work  ;  and  the 
spectacle  we  presented  would  have  afforded  great  amuse- 
ment to  some  of  our  New  York  friends.  Mr.  Field,  spade 
in  hand,  led  the  ditching  party ;  Dr.  Spring,  with  his  coat 
off  and  a  handkerchief  tied  around  his  head,  was  hard  at 
work  sawing  out  spaces  for  windows ;  Dr.  Sayre,  myself, 
and  two  or  three  others,  nailed  on  layer  after  layer  of  shin- 
gles ;  and  of  the  rest,  some  took  to  flooring,  others  to  clap- 
boarding,  and  others  to  making  frames  for  batteries.  We 
had  but  a  single  accident — a  scaffold  fell,  and  one  of  the 
fishermen,  in  falling  within  it,  barked  his  shins.  AU  worked 
with  a  will,  and  by  night  the  roof  was  completed,  the  ddef 


A  TBLEGBATHIC  TEIP  TO   NEWiOUNDLAOT).  294 

closed  in,  the  house  floored,  and  a  deep  ditch  dug  down  to 
the  edge  of  the  breakers.  This  ditch  terminated  in  the 
house,  in  the  centre  of  which  a  circular  pit  was  dug,  and 
the  frame  of  a  hogshead  without  the  headings,  planted  in  it 
allowing  a  clear  space  about  eighteen  inches  around  it.  A 
wooden  pillar,  buried  six  feet,  was  placed  inside  the  hogs 
ead,  which  was  filled  with  earth  rammed  hard — the  whole 
forming  a  sort  of  capstan  or  belaying-post  for  the  cable. 
The  battery  frame  was  also  stayed  against  the  side  of  the 
house,  the  glass  jars  fixed  in  their  appropriate  places,  and 
nothing  was  wanting  but  the  proper  apparatus  to  fit  the 
building  for  immediate  use, 

Mr.  Field,  with  most  of  the  amateurs,  determined  to 
remain  all  night  in  the  building,  and  men  were  dispatched 
to  collect  spruce  boughs  enough  to  turn  the  floor  into  a  bed. 
Dr.  Spring  and  myself,  however,  preferred  trjang  one  of 
the  fishermen's  huts,  and  Mr.  Tapp  sent  one  of  his  grand- 
sons to  conduct  us  to  his  residence.  We  retraced  our  way 
to  the  cove,  and  were  guided  by  little  Steve  to  the  largest 
hut,  which  was  a  very  small  one,  just  opposite  the  landing. 
On  entering,  a  woman  of  about  fifty-five,  short,  stout,  witlj 
gray  eyes,  and  queer,  frizzled,  yellowish  hair,  rose  from  her 
seat  by  the  wide  fireplace.  "  Are  you  Mrs.  Tapp  ? "  I 
asked.  "I'm  Tapp's  wife,"  she  answered,  stretching  forth 
her  hand,  and  when  I  took  it,  bobbing  nearly  to  the  floor 
in  a  respectful  but  grotesque  courtesy.  I  introduced  Di 
Spring,  who  was  received  with  a  still  deeper  courtesy,  and 
mentioned  Mr.  Tapp's  message  and  our  desire  to  remain 
there  for  the  night.  "To  be  sui-e,"  said  she,  "you  shall 
stay ;  it's  a  difficult  house,  but  such  as  it  is,  you  are  welcome 


800  AT   UOMB   AND   ABBOAS. 

to  it."  There  was  a  tea-kettle  on  the  fire,  and  a  pan  of 
bread  with  a  heap  of  live-coals  on  the  lid,  hanging  to  a 
hook.  Tapp's  wife  set  about  preparing  tea,  giving  us, 
meanwhile,  a  variety  of  information  about  herself  and  &• 
mily.  Her  language  was  very  quaint  and  peculiar,  and  she 
spoke  in  the  short,  quick  way  common  to  some  tribes  of 
Indians.  I  gathered  from  her  words  that  she  had  been 
bom  and  raised  on  Codroy  river  ( about  thirty  miles  north 
of  Cape  Ray  )  ;  that  she  had  five  cows  before  she  left  her 
mother ;  that  all  the  cows  and  sheep  in  the  settlement  be- 
longed to  her ;  that  she  had  had  nine  daughters  and  two  sons, 
but  God  Almighty  took  one  of  the  latter  when  he  was  two 
months  old ;  that  she  had  never  been  further  than  Port-aux 
Basques,  and  thought  it  must  be  a  fine  thing  to  see  the 
world.  She  added,  however,  that  she  had  plenty  to  eat 
and  drink,  and  was  well  contented  where  she  was.  Two 
of  her  daughters — great,  shy,  sunburnt,  blowsy  tomboys  of 
fourteen  and  sixteen — came  into  the  house.  "  They  would 
be  good  girls,"  said  she,  "if  they  had  their  rights" — 
meaning  if  they  had  a  chance  to  go  to  school.  I  asked  for 
a  drink  of  water,  and  received  a  bowl  of  a  sepia-colored 
mixture  tasting  of  mud.  "  It's  very  diflScult  water,"  said 
the  old  lady,  "  and  you'd  better  not  drink  much." 

Presently  she  spread  a  piece  of  painted  oil-cloth  on  the 
table,  set  out  some  plates,  cups,  bread  and  butter,  took  the 
tea-kettle  off  the  fire,  and  invited  us  to  sit  down,  saying 
"  If  I  had  anything  better,  you  should  have  it ;  I  can't  do 
no  more  than  that,  you  know."  She  apologized  for  her 
bread,  assuring  us  that  she  had  very  "  difficult"  flour,  but 
added,  as  if  to  console  us,  "here  you  have  a  chaney  dish 


A  TELBOBAPHi:  TEIP  TO  NEWFOUNDLAim.  80i 

and  here  you  have  a  chaney  tea-cup,  only  they  don't  match." 
With  all  her  oddity  nothing  could  be  kinder  than  her  man- 
ner ;  and  her  difficult  bread,  and  tea  sweetened  with  molas- 
ses, had  a  relish  for  me  beyond  what  my  hunger  gave  it. 
We  had  just  finished  our  meal  when  old  Tapp  appeared, 
accompanied  by  Dr.  Sayre  and  Mr.  Roberts,  who  were 
dispatched  by  the  party  to  procure  a  supply  of  bread  and 
tea.  They  gave  such  an  account  of  the  comfort  of  the 
new  house  with  its  bedding  of  spruce  boughs,  that  Dr. 
Spring  and  myself  were  persuaded  to  return  with  them. 
We  had  not  proceeded  far,  however,  when  the  fishermen 
saw  the  lights  of  a  steamer  off  the  bay,  and  presently  a 
second  light  appeared,  still  more  distant  and  indistinct. 
The  first  steamer  gradually  rounded  in  towards  the  land, 
but  a  light  fog  was  gathering  over  the  water,  and  we  conld 
not  make  out  from  her  lights  whether  she  was  the  Adgei 
or  the  Victoria. 

Old  Tapp,  supposing  she  was  the  former  vessel,  put  off 
towards  her  in  his  boat,  and  after  some  deliberation  Mr. 
Roberts  and  myself  took  two  of  the  fishermen  and  followed 
him.  The  steamer  was  at  anchor  by  this  time,  and  buraing 
blue  lights,  which  were  answered  by  rockets  from  the  vessel 
outside.  She  proved  to  be  the  Victoria,  which  had  run  up 
in  advance  of  the  Adger,  which  latter  had  the  bark  in  tow. 
It  was  now  nearly  nine  o'clock,  and  the  fog  was  at  times  so 
thick  as  entirely  to  hide  the  Adger's  lights.  The  captain, 
finally,  worn  out  with  the  day's  labors,  had  lain  down,  and 
we  were  thinking  of  the  same  thing,  when  the  soimd  of 
oars  was  heard,  and  one  of  the  Adcccr's  boats  drew  along- 
side.   She  had  Mr.  Lowber  on  board,  and  came  for  the 


S02  AT  HOMB  AND  ABSOAD. 

purpose  of  taking  out  Captain  Sluyter  to  assist  in  pilotmg 
the  steamer  in. 

I  embarked  in  the  boat  with  the  capt^dn,  and  about  ten 
o'clock  she  put  off,  steering  out  to  sea  in  the  supposed 
direction  of  the  steamer,  whose  lights  were  nowhere  to  be 
4een.  The  water  was  fortunately  smooth,  with  but  a  light 
iwell,  and  the  men  pulled  vigorously  for  nearly  half  an 
hour  before  the  quick  eye  of  our  coxswain  could  detect 
any  sign  of  light.  Even  then  it  was  immediately  obscured 
again  by  the  fog ;  and  as  we  were  losing  sight  of  the 
Victoria's  lights  by  this  time,  it  was  decided  to  bum  a 
Roman  candle  which  we  had  with  us.  This  was  accom- 
plished with  some  difficulty,  for  the  powder  was  damp ;  but 
it  procured  us  a  return  signal  and  showed  us  our  tme 
course.  Shortly  afterwards  a  gun  was  fired  on  board  the 
Victoria,  according  to  Captain  Sluyter's  direction.  In 
another  half-hour  we  seemed  to  be  rapidly  nearing  the 
Adger,  when  she  stood  fuither  out  again  and  almost  dis- 
appeared from  view.  We  had  now  lost  sight  of  the  shore, 
and  began  to  fear  we  should  have  to  pass  the  whole  night 
on  the  water.  Another  long  and  weary  pull  followed, 
but  we  did  not  feel  entirely  safe  until  within  hail  of  her 
steamer.  The  swell  was  heavy,  and  it  was  with  the  utmost 
difficulty  and  danger  that  we  succeeded  in  getting  upon  the 
gangway  ladder.  Our  men  bad  been  obliged  to  pull  a 
distance  of  eight  or  nine  miles,  and  it  was  nearly  midnight 
when  we  got  on  deck. 

The  next  day  we  commenced  laying  the  submarine  cable 
The  en  d  was  safely  landed  and  secured,  and  by  sunset  we 
had  made  about  forty  miles,  when  a  gale,  which  had  beea 


A  TELKGEAPHTC  TKTP  TO   NEWFOITNDLAND.  308 

rising  all  day,  blew  so  violently  that  it  was  found  necessary 
to  cut  the  cable  in  order  to  save  the  bark  from  foundering. 
Thus  disastrously  terminated  our  expedition,  which,  how- 
ever, was  repeated  with  complete  success  the  following 
smnmer.  The  next  morning  we  reached  Sydney,  on  Cape 
Breton,  took  on  board  a  fresh  supply  of  coal,  and  ther, 
rfltumed  to  New  York  having  been  absent  a  month.  t 


XXV. 

HOLIDAYS  IX  SWITZERLAND  AND  ITALY. 

[1866.] 


On  leaving  Germany  for  a  holiday  tour  of  six  weeks, 
which  we  proposed  extending  as  far  as  Rome,  we  first 
spent  a  day  in  delightful  old  Nuremburg,  and  thence 
hurried  on  by  the  Danube  and  Augsburg  to  Lindau  on  the 
Lake  of  Constance,  which  we  crossed  to  Romanshom,  and 
so  entered  Switzerland.  There  was  no  caU  for  passports, 
no  examination  of  baggage,  and  the  conductors  on  the 
train  to  Zurich,  although  each  one  had  the  word  Snob  (the 
initials  of  the  German  words  for  "  Swiss  North-Eastem 
Railway")  on  his  buttons,  were  nevertheless  gentlemen, 
and  handsome  as  they  were  courteous. 

"We  left  Zurich  in  a  carriage  for  Goldau,  at  the  foot  of 
the  Righi,  in  order  to  ascend  that  fashionable  peak  before 
sunset.    While  dining  at  Zug,  I  was  accosted  by  a  Swi« 


HOLIDATS   IN   SWnZKBLAKD    AND   ITAIiT.  305 

guide,  who  wished  me  to  take  him  into  my  service.  Now 
I  had  determined  to  take  no  guide  (none  being  necessary) 
until  we  should  reach  the  Furca  Pass ;  but  the  minute  I  saw 
the  man  full  in  the  face,  and  looked  into  the  clear  depths 
of  his  unwavering  dark-blue  eyes,  he  had  me  completely  in 
his  power.  I  felt  that  I  must  take  him,  before  his  proposi- 
tion was  half  spoken  ;  yet,  like  a  prudent  man  of  the  world 
(a  fool,  rather),  I  hesitated,  and  bargained,  and  made  con- 
ditions, all  savoiing  of  mistrust,  while  in  reality  I  would 
have  trusted  all  my  worldly  possessions  in  his  hands. 
Why  must  we  ever  distort  our  features  with  these  conven- 
tional masks  ?  Why  not  say  at  once  :  "  I  know  you  and 
believe  in  you  ?" — for  our  natural  instincts  are  a  thousand 
times  truer  than  the  judgment  of  the  world. 

Joseph  being  engaged  (blushing  up  to  the  roots  of  hia 
hair  as  he  confessed  to  the  knowledge  of  a  few  Alpine 
melodies),  we  pushed  on  to  Goldau,  and  commenced  the 
ascent.  Our  Alpine  luggage,  consisting  of  two  heavy 
portmanteaus,  probably  one  hundred  and  twenty  pounds 
weight,  was  transferred  to  the  shoulders  of  a  rather  lean 
native,  who  rejoiced  at  the  prospect  of  earning  five  francs 
by  carrying  it  to  the  very  top  of  the  Righi.  It  would  have 
broken  the  back  of  a  New- York  porter  before  the  end  of 
the  first  mile.  Our  Swiss,  however,  reached  the  top  in 
fifteen  minutes  after  us,  and  we  were  less  than  three  houm 
in  climbing  the  eight  miles.  There  was  no  sunset,  and  the 
delicious  tones  of  the  Alpine  horn  awoke  us  at  dawn,  to 
see  no  sunrise.  We  shivered  on  the  summit  half  an  hour, 
to  no  purpose ;  many  travellers  went  down  in  disgust,  but 
(here  is  no  use  in  losing  one's  temper,  and  we  took  coffee. 


106  AT  HOME  AlW  ABBOAD. 

Then  we  went  up  again  and  took  our  station  in  the  olond 
Presently  appeared  Joseph,  who  said :  "  I  have  seen  some 
thing ;  look  that  way,"  pointing  to  the  west,  "  and  wait  a 
little."  Soon  theie  was  a  glimmer,  as  of  a  strip  of  cloud 
Eghted  by  the  sun,  then  the  vapors  parted,  and  for  aa 
instant  the  whole  line  of  the  Bernese  Alps,  from  the 
Finateraar-hom  to  the  Jungfrau,  stood  unveiled  in  the  face  of 
morning.  Horns  of  immaculate  snow,  golden,  clear  flushes 
of  topaz  on  the  frosted  silver  of  the  glaciers — a  moment 
naked  and  beautiful  as  the  goddesses  on  Mount  Ida,  then 
veiled  in  their  floating  cloudy  drapery  from  eyes  that  were 
almost  too  weak  to  bear  their  splendors. 

Now  came  the  wind  and  cleared  the  peak,  and  as  far  as 
the  hills  of  the  Rhine  all  was  mottled  light  and  shadow; 
gleams  of  beryl  from  the  lakes  and  starry  flashing  of  white 
towns,  dots  on  the  distant  blue.  "We  had  all  we  came  to 
see,  and  more  than  we  had  hoped  for.  Yet  I  mefc  an 
American,  who  had  stood  on  the  Kighi,  on  as  clear  a  morn- 
ing, and  was  much  disappointed.  "It  was  just  like  a 
pjunting,"  said  he,  "  the  panoramas  you  see  on  exhibition 
are  a  great  deal  finer." 

Our  way  led  up  the  Lake  of  the  Forest  Cantons  to 
Fluellen  and  Altorf.  Joseph  engaged  a  good  carriage 
with  a  driver  who  sang ;  and,  as  we  drove  up  the  val/.ey  of 
the  Reuss  towards  St.  Gothard,  next  day,  the  rocks  echoed 
with  the  Jodel  lieder,  and  the  quaint,  naive  peasant-songa 
of  Switzerland.  Tony  had  a  fine  baritone,  which  harmo 
nixed  well  with  th«  clanging  mountaineer  tenor  of  Joseph 
The  melting,  undulating,  horn-like  cadences  of  the  Jodei 
ohoroses,  heard  in  the  deep  Alpine  valley,  with  the  roar  of 


HOLIDAYS  nr  SWITZERLAND   AND  ITAI.T.  30Y 

the  Reuss  below,  and  the  tinkling  of  the  musicai  herd-bells 
on  the  pasture-slopes,  were  so  many  strains  of  that  unwrit- 
ten poetry,  for  which  there  are  no  words  in  any  langnagek 
One  of  the  songs  had  the  following  droll  refrain : 

"What  good  living  is,  if  you  would  know, 
You  must  straight  unto  my  Jura  go: 
Jura  is  the  prettiest  girl,  you'd  say, 
If  the  others  all  had  gone  away." 

At  the  inn  at  Andermatt  we  found  plenty  of  snobs.  The 
landlord  was  a  physician  and  prescribed  for  us,  not  one 
having  escaped  a  sprain  or  a  pain.  Joseph  collected  the 
guides,  and  towards  midnight  gave  us  a  serenade,  begin- 
ning with  the  Ham  des  Vaches,  accompanied  with  the 
most  wonderful  variations,  all  performed  on  the  human 
voice.  The  performer  was  a  lusty  young  fellow,  who 
drank  too  much  for  his  good,  but  who,  as  he  boasted, 
could  make  any  note  he  pleased,  high  or  low.  His  execn- 
tion  was  as  marvellous  as  Jenny  Lind's,  and  as  full  of 
mountain  echoes. 

Our  route  was  over  the  Furca  Pass,  by  the  glacier  of  the 
Rhone,  the  Grimsel,  and  down  the  valley  of  the  Aar  to 
Meyringen ;  then  over  the  Scheideck,  by  the  Rosenlaui 
glacier  to  Grindelwald,  and  over  the  Wengern  Alp  to 
Lauterbrunnen  and  Interlacken.  We  had  six  days  among 
the  high  Alps,  without  a  cloud  in  the  sky — at  most  a  gauzy 
scarf  of  vapor  floating  around  the  snowy  cones,  to  soften 
the  sharpness  of  their  profiles  on  the  deep  blue  of  the  air. 
We  crept  into  the  ice-caverns  of  the  glaciers,  and  fi-om 
under  their  vaults  of  translucent  sapphire  looked  on  tht 


808  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

rose-liiited  foam  of  the  cataracts;  we  saw  the  splendid 
Wetterhorn  hanging  over  the  dark-green  fir  forests ;  we 
listened  to  the  roar  of  avalanches  from  the  Jungfrau,  and 
snatched  their  snow-dust  tumbling  a  thousand  feet  down 
the  precipice,  while  tranquilly  consuming  our  chamois 
ragout  on  the  Wengern  Alps ;  we  held  our  heads  undei 
the  Staubbach  which  flung  its  waters  upon  us  from  a 
height  of  nine  hundred  feet,  and  wet  our  backs  through 
and  through ;  we  leaned  over  the  Aar,  where  it  plunges 
down  the  gorge  of  Handeck,  and  noticed  its  wonderful 
resemblance  to  boiled  cauliflower;  and  finally,  at  Inter- 
lacken,  we  bade  adieu  to  the  Bernese  Alps,  and  to  Joseph, 
from  whom  we  parted  with  mutual  tears. 

Switzerland  swarmed  with  travellers  this  Summer.  The 
mountain  passes  were  alive  with  brown  straw  flats,  drab 
skirts,  checked  coats  and  wide-awakes.  Even  at  the  hospice 
on  the  Grimsel,  six  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  you  heard 
the  English  and  American  languages  rather  than  the  Helve- 
tic German.  Towards  the  close  of  each  day,  there  was  a 
general  stampede  along  the  roads,  in  order  to  be  first  at 
the  hotel  and  get  the  best  rooms.  The  telegraph,  however, 
runs  across  the  glaciers,  and  our  prudent  guide  always  had 
our  quarters  engaged  two  days  in  advance,  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  many  tourists  who  took  pains  to  rush  past  us. 
The  expense  is  but  a  franc,  and  I  would  advise  travellers  to 
take  advantage  of  this  improvement  during  the  fashionable 
season. 

My  intercourse  with  the  travelling  crowd  was  mostly 
confined  to  looking  at  them  during  dinner-time.  The  sum 
of  my  observations  was,  that  it  is  best  to  travel  alone 


HOLIDAYS  IN  SWITZERLAND   AND   ITALY.  308 

unless  you  know  your  companion  nearly  as  well  as  your 
self;  and  fuither,  that  it  is  advisable  to  make  acquaintances 
among  the  natives  of  the  country  you  visit,  rather  than 
among  other  travellers.  Of  the  English  one  meets  in 
Switzerland,  one-tenth  may  prove  agreeable  acquaintances ; 
of  the  Americans  and  French,  one-fourth ;  and  of  the 
Germans,  one-half.  The  principal  topic  of  conversation 
was — not  the  scenery,  but  the  merits  of  different  hotels. 
I  heard  a  ruddy  Londoner  gravely  recommend  a  certain 
house  because  the  tea-cups  had  handles  to  them,  and 
another  was  delighted  with  Lucerne  because  he  had  found 
a  good  confectioner's  shop  there.  The  principal  test  of  a 
hotel,  however,  as  I  learned  from  the  confidential  recom- 
mendations of  several  gentlemen,  was  one  of  so  ludicrous  a 
character,  that  I  regret  being  unable  to  state  it. 

We  fell  in,  nevertheless,  with  some  very  pleasant  people, 
and  I  could  not  help  noticing  that  the  English  are  becoming 
more  malleable  and  tractable  of  late  years.  Those  who  had 
cast  their  insular  shell  met  us  with  Continental  fi-eedom  and 
cordiality.  One  experiment  which  I  made  turned  out 
unsuccessfully,  to  my  regret.  Going  down  the  valley  of 
the  Aar,  I  saw  approaching  me  a  German  gentleman  and 
lady,  followed  at  a  little  distance  by  an  English  party.  I 
bowed  to  the  former,  and  was  repaid  by  a  ready  and 
gracious  acknowledgment.  I  then  repeated  the  process 
to  the  English  ladies,  who  deliberately 

"  Gtorgonized  me  from  head  to  foot 
With  a  stony  British  stare." 

Many  American  ladies,  let  me  confess,  would  have  done 


810  AT  HOMB  AND  ABEOAD. 

the  same  thing.  I  kept  statistics  of  female  politeness  foi 
some  months  in  the  Sixth-avenue  cars,  and  found  that  not 
more  than  one  lady  in  twenty  thanked  me  for  giving  up  my 
seat  to  her. 

From  Interlacken  we  went  to  Berne  (where  I  was  foi>- 
tunate  enough  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Fay), 
Freyburg,  and  Vevay.  At  the  latter  place,  as  well  as 
Geneva,  all  the  hotels  were  filled  to  overflowing,  and  we 
had  some  difficulty  in  getting  quarters.  The  cost'  of  travel 
in  Europe  is  much  increased  of  late,  partly  by  the  increase 
of  travellers,  and  partly  by  the  rise  in  the  price  of  provisions. 
I  was  glad  to  find,  however,  that  there  are  fewer  attempts 
at  extortion  than  formerly ;  the  hotel  business  is  systema- 
tized and  regulated,  and  the  rates,  though  high,  are  tolera- 
bly uniform  all  over  the  Continent — so  that,  if  a  traveller 
suffers  serious  imposition,  it  is  probably  owing  to  his  own 
carelessness  or  verdancy. 

On  entering  the  valley  of  Chamouni  I  recognised  the 
rocks  of  the  Grand  Mulcts,  just  under  the  eaves  of  the 
clouds  which  concealed  the  dome  of  Mont  Blanc,  from 
their  resemblance  to  Albert  Smith's  panorama ;  but  an 
English  tourist,  familiar  with  the  valley,  declared  that  I 
was  mistaken.  I  appealed  to  a  sun-burnt,  grizzly-headed 
old  fellow,  who  was  walking  beside  us.  "They  are  the 
Grand  Mulcts,"  said  he,  "  and  I  ought  to  know,  for  I  have 
been  fourteen  times  on  the  top  of  Mont  Blanc."  He  was 
the  noticed  guide  Coutet.  At  the  hotel,  a  limping  waiter 
showed  us  to  our  rooms.  "  I  have  just  come  down  from 
Mont  Blanc,'  he  said  apologetically,  "and  am  very  tired 
and  sore."    He  had   employed  the  greater  part  of  hij 


HOLIDAYS   IN   SWITZJEELAifD   AND   ITALT.  811 

Snmmer's  earuings  in  hiring  two  guides,  with  whom  he 
had  gone  as  far  as  the  Rochers  Rouges,  only  one  hour's 
journey  from  the  summit,  when  they  were  driven  back  by 
ft  furious  storm.  Nothing  daunted,  he  had  made  up  liifl 
mind  to  try  again  so  soon  as  the  weather  should  be  favor- 
able.    Such  is  the  fascination  of  the  mighty  Mountain. 

We  had  bad  weather,  and  only  succeeded  in  crossing  the 
dfer  de  Glace,  from  Chapeau  to  Montanvert,  where  we 
iraited  twenty-four  hours,  in  a  snow-storm,  mtending  to 
push  on  to  the  Jardin,  a  spot  of  green  in  the  midst  of 
9temal  ice,  ten  thousand  feet  above  the  sea ;  but  we  were 
■compelled  to  give  it  up.  Crossing  the  pass  of  the  T^te 
Noire  to  Martigny,  we  took  the  dihgence  over  the  Simplon, 
ind  descended  to  Lago  Maggiore  on  the  second  day. 
Except  the  gorge  of  Gondo,  on  the  Italian  side,  which,  for 
picturesque  effect,  is  one  of  the  finest  things  in  the  Alps, 
the  Simplon  road  is  less  striking  than  that  over  the  St. 
Gothard.  In  one  respect,  however,  it  should  be  preferred 
by  those  who  cross  the  Alps  for  the  first  time — the  transi- 
tion from  Swiss  to  Italian  scenery  is  sudden  and  complete. 
A  few  miles  of  bare,  rocky  defile,  and  you  exchange  the  fir 
for  the  chestnut,  mulberry,  and  fig — the  moimtain  chalet  foi 
the  vine-covered  verandas  of  the  bright  southern  coimtry 
houses. 

My  holiday  time  was  getting  short,  and  I  could  only 
ftidolge  my  companions  with  a  flying  trip  through  Italy 
We  spent  a  day  in  Milan,  and  then  set  out  in  a  heavy  rail 
for  Venice.  Radetzky,  with  his  staff,  left  at  the  same  time 
for  Verona,  and  at  Coccaglio,  where  we  waited  an  hour  for 
the  train  from  Brescia,  we  came  togeher.    The  old  jyiarabal 


SI  2  AT    HOME   JiSJ)   ABBOAB. 

and  his  company  took  possession  of  the  refreshment  room, 
keeping  the  rest  of  us,  who  were  very  hungry,  out  of  it 
until  they  had  finished.  Nothing  could  have  been  more 
politely  done.  The  guards  begged  our  pardon,  asked  m 
85  a  special  favor  not  to  go  in,  and  admitted  us  even  before 
Radetzky  had  retired.  I  looked  at  the  old  veteran  with 
nuch  interest.  He  was  then  upM^ards  of  ninety,  yet  still 
performed  his  duties  as  Military  Governor  of  Austiian  Italy 
He  had  at  length  been  obliged  to  give  up  his  horse,  and 
reviewed  his  troops  in  an  open  carriage.  He  was  a  short, 
thick-set  man,  walked  rather  slowly,  but  firmly,  and  had  a 
face  full  of  vitality.  His  short  white  hair,  thick  white 
mustache,  heavy  brows,  promuient  cheek-bones  and  square 
jaws,  gave  him  the  precise  expression  of  an  old  bull-terrier. 
Such  courage,  resolution,  and  unyielding  tenacity  of  purpose 
I  never  saw  in  an  old  man's  face  before.  If  he  got  his  teeth 
get  once  you  might  be  sure  he  would  hold  on.  Such  a  man 
was  Carvajai,  Pizarro's  magnificent  old  warrior. 

In  Venice  we  had  four  cloudless  days,  and  four  nights  ir. 
a  gondola,  under  the  full  moon.  Such  days  and  nights  are 
dreams,  and  my  return  to  Padua  was  the  awaking  upon  a 
dull  reality.  The  vineyards  on  the  road  to  Bologna  were 
purple  with  abundant  grapes,  for  there  was  a  vintage  in 
Italy,  for  the  first  time  in  five  years.  The  disease  of  the 
vine  appears  to  be  gradually  disappearing,  like  that  of  the 
potato,  and  these  two  invaluable  plants  are  now  healthy, 
with  few  exceptions,  throughout  Europe.  The  failure  of 
the  vintage  for  so  many  years  had gieatly  impoverished  the 
Itali;m  people.  Wine  had  risen  to  full  five  times  its  foi  inei 
price,  and  was  withal  so  bad  that  one  could  scarcely  drink 


HOLIDAYS   IN   SWITZEELANP   ANP   TTAIiY.  313 

it.  Montefiascone  and  Montepulciano  wholly  belied  their 
old  renown,  and  those  who  tasted  the  golden  Orvieto 
ooold  not  understand  why  it  should  have  been  so  praised. 

We  had  a  week  in  Florence.  I  saw  much  of  my  old 
friend  Powers,  who  was  dividing  his  time  between  Art  and 
Invention.  His  statue,  La  Penserosa,  which  is  now  in  the 
possession  of  Mr.  James  Lenox,  was  nearly  finished.  It 
is  thoroughly  Miltonic,  and  I  don't  know  what  more  I 
could  say.    The  face  is  uplifted,  abstracted, 

"  "With  looks  commercing  with  the  skiei^ 
The  rapt  soul  sitting  in  her  eyes ;" 

the  figure  large  and  majestic,  with  a  sweeping  train,  partly 
held  in  one  hand,  as  she  moves  slowly  forward.  In  many 
respects  it  is  Powers's  best  work,  though  it  may  not  be  so 
popular  as  his  "  California." 

We  hastened  on  to  Rome,  although  it  was  rather  early 
in  the  season.  My  companions,  however,  had  little  fear  of 
either  fever  or  robbers,  and  so,  after  ten  years  of  absence, 
I  acted  as  their  cicerone  through  churches,  palaces,  and 
ruins.  I  saw  little  change  in  Rome  since  1846,  except 
along  the  Appian  Way,  where  many  new  exhumations  have 
been  made,  and  a  number  of  glaring  tablets,  headed  with 
"  Pius  IX.  Pont.  Max.,"  inserted  in  the  venerable  fronts  of 
Roman  baths  and  amphitheatres.  There  was  also  a  tablet 
n  St.  Peter's,  on  the  left  of  the  Apostle's  Chair,  commemo- 
ating  the  sublime  absurdity  of  the  Immaculate  Concep- 
tion. Oh,  Pio  Nono !  you  are  as  vain  as  you  are  weak, 
jnd  we  who  once  respected  you  can  now  only  pity  you. 
On  the  evening  of  our  departure,  the  Pope  drove  past  oui 


S14  AT  HOICK  JJHD  ABBOAB. 

hotel  in  his  carriage.  We  leaned  out  of  the  dining-room 
windows,  looked  in,  and  received  bis  benediction.  He  ha» 
a  kind,  amiable,  grandmotherly  old  face,  and  his  blessing 
could  do  no  harm.  Poor  man  I  I  think  he  means  well, 
but  he  is  in  Antonelli's  evil  hands,  and  Rome,  which  had  a 
transient  sunrise  during  the  first  years  of  his  Pontificate,  if 
aow  sunk  in  as  blind  a  night  as  ever. 

My  respect  for  the  Roman  people  is  increased,  by  com- 
paring them  with  the  Florentines,  who  are  an  impersona- 
tion of  all  that  is  mean  and  corrupt.  There  is  honor  and 
virtue  to  be  found  among  the  Tuscan  peasants,  I  doubt  not, 
but  for  the  bourgeoisie  of  Florence  one  can  have  no  feeling 
but  that  of  utter  loathing  and  contempt.  No  lady  can 
walk  alone  in  Florence  without  being  grossly  insulted,  and 
even  in  a  carriage,  with  a  gentleman's  protection,  she  must 
run  the  gauntlet  of  a  thousand  insolent  starers.  The  faces 
of  the  youths  express  a  precocious  depravity,  and  the  blear 
eyed  old  men  show  in  every  wrinkle  the  records  of  a 
debauched  and  degraded  life.  There  is  no  help  for  such 
a  people ;  they  are  slaves,  and  deserve  to  be  so. 

But  of  all  cheering  signs  of  progress  in  Europe,  there  is 
none  so  truly  encouraging  as  the  present  condition  of  Sar- 
dinia. I  passed  through  the  country  first  in  August,  1 845, 
and  now,  in  October,  1856, 1  returned  to  witness  what  had 
been  done  in  those  eleven  years.  Then,  Sardinia  was 
scarcely  in  advance  of  Tuscany,  and  her  material  develop* 
ment  seemed  to  be  at  a  stand-still.  Now,  nearly  500  mileu 
of  railroad  were  in  operation,  her  commerce  had  been 
doubled,  her  productive  industry  vastly  increased,  her  agri- 
cultvire  fostered  and  improved,  and — best  of  all — she  haa  a 


HOLIDAYS   IN   SWITZEBLAND  AND  ITALY.  315 

liberal  Constitution,  an  enlightened  and  energetic  Govern, 
ment,  and  a  hapi)y  and  hopeful  people.  From  ^enoa  to 
Turin,  along  the  old  road  where  I  then  walke  1  in  dust 
through  sleepy  vDlages,  all  is  now  activity  and  animation. 
New  houses  have  been  built,  new  fields  ploughed,  bare  moun 
toin-sides  terraced  and  planted  with  vine,  new  mills  bestride 
tile  idle  streams,  and  a  thrifty  and  industrious  population 
are  at  work  on  all  sides.  Sardinia  has  set  a  noble  example 
to  the  other  Italian  States,  and  her  success  is  the  sorest 
basis  for  the  future  independence  of  Italy. 

As  King  Victor  Emmanuel  was  not  at  home,  we  were 
freely  admitted  into  his  palace  at  Turin,  even  the  private 
apartments  being  thrown  open  to  ns.  Turin  is  a  stately 
and  beautiful  city,  although  it  contains  little  to  attract  the 
traveller.  We  were  obliged  to  wait  two  days  before  we 
could  obtain  places  in  the  diligence  for  Chambery.  The 
passage  of  Mont  Cenis  was  made  by  night;  we  had  a  snow 
storm  on  the  summit,  where  we  found  a  diligence  over- 
turned and  the  passengers  scattered  about,  but  more  fright- 
ened than  hurt.  Our  diligence  (the  French)  raced  the 
whole  day  with  one  of  the  Sardinian  line,  so  that  we  ave- 
raged nine  or  ten  miles  an  hour,  and  thundered  along  th«j 
beautiful  valleys  of  Savoy  to  Chambery,  in  much  less  than 
the  usual  time.  The  next  day  we  returned  to  Geneva,  via 
Aix  and  the  Lake  of  Annecy  (see  Rousseau's  "  Confessions," 
and  Lamartine's  "  Raphael "),  through  one  of  the  loveliest 
regions  in  Europe. 

I  had  an  interesting  interview  on  my  return  fi-om  Lau- 
sanne to  Gotha.  At  B4Ie  the  diligences  from  Neufchatel 
and  Berne  came  together  at  the  railroad  station,  and  tbeif 


316  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

respective  passengers  were  deposited  in  the  care  for  Heidel- 
berg and  Frankfort.  We  found  ourselves  in  the  companj 
of  three  strangers,  one  of  whom  immediately  attracted  my 
notice.  He  was  a  slender  man,  about  thirty-five  yean 
old,  with  black  eyes  and  beard,  and  a  pale  yellow  complex- 
ion. He  spoke  German  witt  perfect  correctness,  but 
slowly,  and  addressed  me  in  very  tolerable  English ;  yet 
I  could  not  fix  upon  his  nationality. 

I  happened  casually  to  speak  of  Venice,  when  he  stated 
that  he  had  just  come  thence.  He  then  mentioned  Corfii, 
and  we  compared  our  impressions  of  that  island  ;  then  of 
the  Grecian  isles,  then  of  Lebanon,  and  the  Syrian  shores. 
"I  know  Syria  very  well,"  said  I,  "from  Jerusalem  to 
Aleppo."  "  So  do  I,"  said  he.  "  I  travelled  from  Aleppo 
through  Asia  Minor  to  Constantinople,"  I  continued. 
"And  I,"  he  rejoined,  "went  from  Aleppo  to  Nineveh, 
down  the  Tigris  to  Baghdad,  and  thence  to  Bombay."  "  I 
also  visited  Bombay,"  I  said,  "  travelled  inland  to  the 
BQmalayas,  and  down  the  Ganges  to  Calcutta."  "Jwst 
the  route  I  followed,"  he  again  replied.  "  But,"  I  re- 
marked, "there  are  few  Germans  who  travel  so  exten- 
sively as  you."  "  It  is  true,"  said  he,  "  that  few  German 
travellers  visit  India,  but  there  are  several  German  mi* 
sionaries  stationed  there."  "I  have  heard  of  one,"  I 
inswered — "  Dr.  Sprenger,  who  has  written  a  most  admi< 
cable  life  of  Mohammed."  "  Why ! "  he  exclaimed,  in 
mingled  surprise  and  delight,  "  I  am  Dr.  Sprenger  !  " 

I  regretted  that  I  could  spend  but  six  hours  m  the 
society  of  so  estimable  a  man,  and  so  thorough  a  scholar. 
He  was    returning    home  from   an  absence  of  thirteen 


HOLIDAYS   IN  SWrrZERLAND    AWD  ITALY.  31 Y 

years  in  India,  bringing  with  him  a  quantity  of  rare  and 
valuable  Arabic  manuscripts.  He  had  passed  a  year  at 
Damascus,  where  he  had  many  opportunities  of  making 
acquaintances  among  the  desert  Arabs,  and  I  was  gratified 
to  find  that  we  entii*ely  agreed  in  our  estimate  of  the 
character  of  that  noble  race  of  men.  He  was  fortunate 
enough  to  get  possession  of  a  geographical  work  of  the 
fourth  or  fifth  century,  a  work  of  exceeding  value  and 
importance,  which  he  intended  to  translate  and  publish. 

On  landing  at  Trieste,  Dr.  Sprenger  was  gravely  informed 
by  the  authorities  that  his  collection  of  Arabic  MSS.  must 
be  submitted  to  the  inspection  of  the  Censor,  before  he 
Bould  be  permitted  to  retain  possession  of  them.  "Why?" 
he  remonstrated,  "they  are  Arabic."  "So  much  the 
worse,"  said  the  ofiicer;  "it  is  the  more  probable  that  they 
are  insidious  and  revolutionary."  "But,"  he  again  urged, 
"  the  Censor  cannot  read  them."  "  That  is  unfortunate  for 
you,"  was  the  answer:  "  you  will  have  to  wait  until  we  find 
a  man  who  can,  for  there  is  no  knowing  what  dangerous 
sentiments  may  be  concealed  under  these  hieroglyphics." 
And  so  the  traveller  was  obliged  to  part  with  his  treasures, 
until  the  sublimely  stupid  Austrian  Government  shall  be 
convinced  that  there  is  no  treason  in  the  heroics  of  Antai 
or  the  word-jugglery  of  Hariri  of  Bosrah. 


XXVI. 

A   GERMAN   HOME. 


GoTHA  is  one  of  the  quietest  towns  in  Germany,  but  it  would 
be  difficult  to  find  a  pleasanter  one.  It  is  built  on  tbe 
undulating  table  land  at  the  foot  of  the  Thflringian  hills, 
1,000  feet  above  the  sea,  whence  its  climate  is  rather  cold 
for  Germany,  but  very  bracing  and  healthy.  A  tourist  is 
an  unusual  sight  there,  and  therefore  one  finds  the  old 
heartiness  and  simplicity  of  German  home-life  in  all  its 
piirity.  As  it  is  one  of  the  coml  residences  of  the  Duke  of 
Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  there  is  a  small  but  intelligent  and 
refined  circle,  some  of  the  members  of  which  have  a  Euro- 
pean reputation  in  their  departments  of  science  and  art. 
Hansen,  the  astronomer,  and  Dr.  Petermann,  the  geographer, 
both  of  whom  reside  here,  are  also  well  known  in  America. 
Here  came  Barth  in  the  summer  of  1866  to  recruit  from 
his  African  travels ;  and  most  of  the  explorers,  of  whose 
labors  Perthes,  the  renowned  map-publisher,  makes  such 


A  QBSMAN    HOMB.  319 

good  use,  may  be  seen  here  from  time  to  time.  Gerstacker, 
Bodenstedt,  the  author  of  the  "  Thousand  and  One  Days  in 
the  Orient,"  Gustav  Freitag,  Alexander  Ziegler,  and  other 
German  authors,  hover  about  here  through  the  summer, 
and  in  the  neighboring  village  of  Friedrichsroda  the  brotherg 
Grimm  sometimes  make  their  abode. 

The  home  which  German  friendship  has  provided  for  me 
here,  is  in  entire  harmony  with  the  character  of  the  place. 

The  little  garden-house  (inhabited  only  by  Braisted  and 
myself)  fronts  on  the  avenue  of  lindens  leading  into  the 
town,  while  the  rear  overlooks  a  garden  of  three  or  four 
acres  in  extent.  It  was  built  by  one  of  the  Ministers  of 
Duke  Ernest  II.  in  1760,  when  the  French  style  infected 
Germany,  and  the  steep  bul^ng  roof  and  quaint  windows 
of  the  upper  half-story  faintly  remind  one  of  the  chateaux 
of  the  time  of  Louis  XIV.  The  same  taste  characterizes 
the  garden.  The  house  stands  on  a  gravelled  terrace,  bor- 
dered with  flowers,  whence  a  flight  of  stone  steps,  guarded 
by  statues  of  laughing  fauns,  descends  to  a  second  and 
broader  terrace,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  a  spacious 
basin  and  a  fountain  better  than  that  in  the  New  York 
Park,  for  it  plays  day  and  night.  Beyond  this,  a  sloping 
arcade  of  the  dwarf  beech,  trained  so  as  to  form  a  roof  of 
Bhade,  impervious  to  the  sun,  leads  down  to  the  garden. 
Still  beyond  are  flower-beds  open  to  the  Summer  warmth, 
a  pool  edged  with  flags  and  lilies,  and  groups  of  trees  stud- 
ding the  smooth  sward  on  either  side. 

An  arch  of  vines  at  the  end  of  the  garden-walk  ushers 
you  into  the  grove,  where  a  Pomona  on  her  pedestal  offers 
iamples  of  fruits  which  jc\  need  w^t  expect  to  find ;  for  I 


820  AT  BOME   AND   ABROAD. 

have  none  other  than  forest-trees  here— fir,  oak,  ash,  cheat 
nut,  and  beech.  You  would  not  guess  that  the  grove  was 
so  small.  Its  winding  footpaths  are  led  through  the  thick- 
est shade,  and  the  briery  undergrowth  shoots  up  to  shul 
out  the  patches  of  garden  which  shimmer  through  the 
lowest  boughs.  In  the  centre,  under  venerable  firs,  standi 
a  hermitage  of  bark,  beside  a  fountain  of  delicious  water, 
which  is  surmounted  by  a  tnangular  block  of  sandstone, 
erected  by  an  extinct  mason  who  once  possessed  the  pro- 
perty. This  mason  had  more  money  than  learning :  he  put 
up  the  stone  as  a  monument  to  his  ancestors,  and  insciibed 
thereon,  as  he  supposed :  "  To  my  Venerable  Forefathers," 
but,  in  fact,  through  his  misspelling :  "  To  my  Venerable 
Trout."  {ForeUen  instead  of  VorMtem^  Some  one,  how- 
ever, has  since  then  engraved  on  the  three  sides  of  the 
stone  the  following  words  of  wisdom :  "  Forget  not  Yes- 
terday " — "  Enjoy  To-day  " — "  Uncertain  is  To-morrow." 

At  the  end  of  the  grove,  on  the  frontier  of  my  domain, 
which  is  shut  in  by  a  hedge  of  fir-trees,  is  "  The  Duke*8 
Tree,"  planted  by  the  hand  of  Ernest  11.  Although  nearly 
a  hundred  years  old,  the  trunk  is  not  more  than  a  foot  in 
diameter,  but  the  tree  is  branching  and  shady,  and  throwa 
Its  boughs  over  the  rustic  seat  and  stone  table,  whereupon 
my  friend  and  I  sometimes  lie  on  our  backs  and  smoke  the 
pipe  of  meditation.  My  friend's  garden  adjoins  mine,  and 
there  is  no  fence  between  us ;  so  that  I  can  walk  from  my 
oermitage  directly  into  his  stables  and  inspect  his  thirty 
Btall-fed  cows,  and  his  pens  of  high-bom  English  swine. 
Beyond  our  joint  territory,  a  rich  banker  has  his  garden, 
and  his  fountain  (which,  by  the  force  of  money,  apouta  tec 


A   GEBMAN    HOME.  321 

feet  higher  than  mine)  is  a  pretty  sight  enough  ovur  the 
hedge  that  divides  us.  His  garden  terminates  in  an  arti- 
ficial mound,  covered  with  tall  pines  and  firs,  which  also 
has  its  historic  interest.  Here  the  Court  of  Gotha,  aping 
the  grand  sentimental  silliness  of  that  of  France,  played  at 
pastoral  life,  and  lords  and  ladies,  with  satin  ribbons  on  their 
crooks  and  flowers  in  their  hair,  gave  themselves  such 
names  as  Corydon,  and  Doris,  and  Alexis,  and  Chloe,  and 
tended  sheep,  and  ate  curds,  and  played  flutes,  and  danced, 
and  sang,  and  looked  languishingly  and  amorously  at  each 
other ;  but  always  returned  to  beer  and  sausages,  cards 
and  scandal  every  evening.  They  even  built  a  pastorai 
village  of  thii-teen  houses,  which  has  long  since  disappeared, 
and  instituted  a  Court  of  Love  on  the  summit  of  the 
mound,  where  Phillis  was  tried  for  slighting  the  passion  of 
Amyntor,  or  Florian  for  his  faithlessness  to  Melissa.  It  is 
difficult,  in  our  day,  to  imagine  the  possibility  of  such  in- 
effable absurdities. 

My  own  room,  under  the  steep  French  roof  of  the  gar- 
den-house, was  once  the  studio  jjf  a  sculptor,  to  vrhose 
hand,  I  believe,  I  am  indebted  for  the  six  thinly-clad  s(  atues 
which  stand  in  my  garden.  The  laughing  fauns  are  jolly 
and  good-humored  enough,  as  they  stand  listening  to  the 
plash  of  the  fountain,  but  Venus  Anadyomene,  do«rn  in 
the  grove,  leaves  one  to  infer  that  the  artist  did  not  mlng' 
n  the  most  reputable  society.  So  oddly  are  things  m^u 
»ged  in  this  place  that,  although  I  live  just  between  the 
palaces  of  the  reigning  Duke  and  the  Dowager  Duchesi,  both 
within  a  stone's  throw,  I  hear  the  noises  of  the  farii-yard 
every  morning,  and  listen  all  day  to  the  measured  beat  ot 


322  AT   HOMB  AND  ABBOAO. 

tbe  flails  on  a  threshing-floor  across  the  way.  The  dili 
gence  to  Coburg  rattles  past  every  afternoon,  and  the  po» 
tilion  blows  rae  a  merry  hunting-song  on  his  horn ;  some- 
times wagons  come  in  from  the  fields  laden  with  turnips  oi 
potatoes,  but  other  noises  I  rarely  hear,  and  from  my  win- 
dv)W8 1  see  little  except  trees  and  garden-walks.  The  Duke 
is  at  present  chamois-hunting  in  the  Tyrol,  the  theatre  is  not 
yet  opened,  and  the  only  recent  excitement  has  been  the 
arrival  of  four  hundred  oysters  from  Ostend.  They  came 
one  evening,  and  by  noon  the  next  day  they  were  not. 

The  Castle  of  Friedenstein,  on  the  summit  of  the  hill  on 
which  the  town  leans,  is  the  old  residence  of  the  Dukes  of 
Gotha,  before  the  union  of  this  Duchy  with  that  of  Coburg. 
It  is  a  massive,  imposing  pile,  forming  three  sides  of  a 
quadrangle,  open  to  the  south,  and  looking  across  twelve 
miles  of  grain  and  turnip  fields,  to  the  waving  blue  line  of 
the  Thtlringian  Forest.  A  residence  no  more,  it  now 
contains  a  curious  collection  of  pictures  by  the  old  German 
masters,  a  library  of  one  hundred^and  eighty  thousand 
volumes,  an  excellent  museum  of  natural  history,  and  one 
of  the  best  collections  of  Chinese  and  Japanese  articles  out 
of  Holland.  The  adjoining  park  is  a  noble  piece  of  ground, 
just  suflBciently  neglected  to  make  it  delightful.  A  few 
footpaths  meander  through  its  groves  of  superb  oak,  fir,  and 
beech  trees,  and  long,  lazy  pools  of  dark  green  water  furnish 
swiniming  room  for  some  venerable  swans  There  is  an 
island  in  the  largest  pool,  in  which  lies  the  body  of  Eraest  II. 
who,  at  his  own  request,  was  buried  there,  in  the  moist 
earth,  without  shroud,  coffin,  or  headstone.  The  f«.rks  and 
gardens  are   oneu   day  and   night   to   everybody,  and   1 


A    GSBMA2I  HOMB.  323 

felt  as  much  right  ot  possession  therein  as  the  oldest  iiih» 
bitant. 

The  Jahrmarkt^  or  Annual  Fair,  is  held  here  in  October, 
and  draws  together  crowds  of  the  peasantry  from  the 
surrounding  villages.  The  Fan*  itself  is  insignificant,  com 
pared  with  what  I  have  seen  in  the  larger  German  cities, 
but  I  found  it  interesting  to  watch  the  jolly  peasants 
who  hovered  around  the  booths,  and  bought  glaring 
handkerchief,  immense  pipes.  Winter  caps,  dream-books, 
and  "  Rinaldo  Rinaldini,"  or  "  The  four  Sons  of  Haymon." 
They  are  a  strong,  sturdy,  ruddy  race — a  little  too  purely 
animal,  to  be  sure,  but  with  a  healthy  stamina  which  is  not 
often  seen  among  our  restless  American  people.  The  girls, 
in  particular,  are  as  fi-esh  as  wild  roses,  with  teeth  which 
can  masticate  tougher  food  than  blancmange,  and  stomachs, 
I  have  no  doubt,  of  equal  digestive  power.  Their  arms  and 
ankles  are  too  thick  and  strong,  and  their  hands  too  red 
and  hard  for  our  ideas  of  beauty,  but  they  are  exempt  from 
a  multitude  of  female  weaknesses,  and  the  human  race  is  not 
detei-iorated  in  their  children.  They  are  an  ignorant,  honest, 
simple-hearted  race,  and,  although  so  industrious  and  econo- 
mical, are  generous  so  far  as  their  means  allow  them  to  be. 

Lately,  the  field-laborers  on  my  friend's  property  comme- 
morated the  close  of  the  season  by  bringing  him,  according 
to  custom,  an  Emtekranz  (harvest-wreath)  of  ripe  rye  and 
barley-stalks,  mixed  with  wild  grasses,  and  adorned  with 
fantastic  strips  of  colored  and  gilded  papers.  This  wreath 
was  formally  delivered  to  the  landlord,  who,  also,  according 
to  custom,  regaled  the  laborers  with  plum  cakes  and  wine. 
They  passed  the  afternoon  and  evening  in  one  of  the  outei 


824  AT  HOMB  AND  ABROAD. 

rooms,  settling  their  accounts  and  partaking  of  the  cheer, 
after  which  a  gittern  was  brought  foith  and  the  room 
deai-ed  for  a  dance.  We  had  some  of  the  old  Thtlringian 
songs,  with  a  chorus  more  loud  than  musical,  and  two-step 
waltzes  danced  to  the  tinkling  gittern.  I  was  content  to 
)e  a  listener  and  looker-on,  but  was  soon  seized  by  the 
strong  hands  of  a  tall  nut-brown  maiden,  and  whirled  into 
the  ranks.  Resistance  was  impossible,  and  at  the  end  of 
five  minutes  I  was  glad  to  beat  a  giddy  retreat. 

I  mast  not  close  this  gossip  from  Gotha,  without  refer- 
ring to  the  map-publishing  establishment  of  Bombard 
Perthes,  whose  productions,  for  thoroughness  and  correct- 
ness, are  unsurpassed  in  the  world.  I  relied  upon  them  for 
my  guidance  through  Ethiopia,  Asia  Minor,  and  India,  and 
found  them  far  more  perfect  than  any  others.  In  Africa,  in 
fiwjt,  I  boldly  vtfiitured  to  contradict  my  guides  whenever 
their  statements  differed  from  my  map,  and  the  result  always 
justified  me.  Mr.  Perthes  commenced  last  year  the  pub- 
lication of  a  monthly  periodical  entitled :  "  Mittheilungen 
Uber  wichtige  neue  Erforschungen  auf  dem  Gesamtntgebiete 
der  Geographie "  ( Communications  concerning  New  and 
Important  Researches  in  the  realm  of  Geography),  the 
editor  of  which  is  Dr.  A.  Petermann,  who,  although  a 
young  man,  ranks  among  the  first  living  geographers. 
This  periodical  is  admirably  got  Up,  and  its  contents  are 
of  the  highest  interest  and  importance.  It  has  already 
attained  a  cuculation  of  4,000  copies,  about  one  hundred 
of  which  go  to  the  United  States. 


XXVII. 

LIFE  IN  THE  THtJRINGIAN  FOREST. 

[OOTOBEB,   1866.] 


Therb  arc  some  aspects  of  German  life  which  whouy 
escape  the  notice  of  most  travellers,  and  which  can  only  be 
reached  through  an  intimate  familiai-ity  with  the  domestic 
life  of  the  country.  The  festivals,  no  less  than  the  costume 
and  manners  of  the  Middle  Ages,  have  already  disappeared 
from  many  parts  of  Germany,  but  fragments  of  them  still 
linger  in  the  more  secluded  districts — ^in  the  little  villages 
hidden  in  mountain  valleys  which  no  post-road  traverses, 
and  in  all  those  nooks  and  corners  of  the  land  which  are 
not  yet  represented  in  the  guide-books.  Here,  one  who 
speaks  the  language  and  understands  the  character  of  the 
people,  and  fraternizes  with  them  as  a  traveller  should,  will 
find  his  life  enriched  with  many  a  quaint  and  picturesque 
experience.    The  Thtlringian  Forest,  well  known  to  Get 


826  AT   HOME   AUD   ABBOAD. 

mails,  but  rarely  visited  by  foreigners,  is  one  of  those  r© 
gions,  and  my  visits  to  its  valleys  have  fhrnished  me  with  a 
few  pictures  of  peasant-life,  which  I  propose  to  sketch  for 
American  eyes. 

My  acquaintance  with  the  Forest  dates  from  four  yeara 
back,  when,  in  company  with  ray  friend,  I  spent  eight  or 
ten  days  in  exploring  it  from  end  to  end.  On  that  occasion 
I  first  met  the  Forester.  It  was  at  twilight,  high  on  the  " 
mountain,  at  a  hunting-lodge  in  the  woods,  called  the 
King's  House.  How  we  kindled  a  fire  of  fir-logs,  how  we 
sat  till  past  midnight  in  the  open  air,  telling  stories  and 
roasting  potatoes  in  the  ashes,  and  how  we  slept  side  by 
side  on  a  bundle  of  straw,  are  things  which  we  keep  in 
choicest  memory,  and  the  reader  need  not  expect  me  to 
reveal  them.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  night  the  Forester  and 
I  became  friends,  and  when,  the  next  morning,  his  gray 
mustache  brushed  my  cheek  at  parting,  I  promised  to  return 
to  the  King's  House  after  a  few  years,  and  spend  another 
night  with  him  by  the  camp-fire. 

A  fortnight  ago,  when  the  mornings  were  bright  and 
frosty,  and  the  days  bracing  and  cloudless,  we  set  out  for 
the  Forester's  home  in  the  little  village  of  Thai.  The  old 
man  was  on  the  look-out  for  us,  and  long  before  we  reached 
the  patriarchal  linden  which  stands  at  the  entrance  of  the 
village,  we  saw  his  sunburnt  face,  his  thick  gray  mustache, 
and  his  green  hunting-coat  on  the  way  to  meet  us.  "  Ah  I  * 
he  cried,  as  he  welcomed  us  with  a  Teutonic  embrace,  **  1 
have  been  on  burning  coals  for  the  last  two  houre,  for  fear 
you  would  not  come ;  the  ^vood  is  all  ready  for  our  fire,  up 
jrondcr.    Schmidt  has  gone  ahead  with  the  beer  and  pota 


LIFK  IN  THE   THrEINGIAN   FOKBST.  32Q 

toe<3,  and  if  you  have  brought  your  cigars,  there  is  nothing 
more  wanting."  But  first  we  must  go  into  his  house,  dis- 
tinguished above  all  others  in  the  village  by  the  head  of  an 
antlered  buck  nailed  upon  its  front.  The  little  room  had 
an  air  of  comfort  and  elegance :  pots  of  flowers  filled  the 
windows,  and  a  glossy  ivy-plant  was  trained  to  run  along 
the  joists  of  the  ceiling.  A  case  with  glass  doors  contained 
his  armory,  which  was  in  thorough  order ;  a  chintz  sofa, 
broad  enough  for  a  Turkish  divan,  occupied  the  other  end 
of  the  room,  and  a  stove,  big  as  the  tower  of  Babel,  stood 
between.  His  daughter  had  coflfee  in  readiness,  and  while 
we  were  enjoying  it  after  our  walk,  the  house-maid,  Kata- 
rina,  was  dispatched  into  the  forest,  with  the  remainder  of 
our  provisions  and  equipments  upon  her  sturdy  back. 

We  shortly  followed,  up  a  little  dell  between  the  two 
hills  which  guard  the  village — the  Schlossberg,  with  its 
rocky  cavern,  and  the  Scharfenberg,  with  the  tower  of  Cas- 
tle Scharfenstein  on  its  summit.  The  meadows  were  still 
fresh  as  in  Summer,  the  tall  alders  shading  the  brook  were 
dark-green,  but  the  woods  of  oak  and  beech  on  the  hills 
wore  the  dark  purple-brown  hues  of  a  German  Autumn. 
Our  path  led  upwards,  through  alternate  forest  and  moun- 
tain meadow,  for  nearly  three  miles  to  the  King's  House, 
which  we  reached  as  the  broad  landscape,  stretching  away 
for  forty  or  fifty  miles  to  the  northwards,  began  to  grow 
dusky  in  the  twilight.  Schmidt  had  just  kindled  his  fire 
under  the  lee  of  a  high  bank,  and  a  great  pile  of  split  logs 
at  his  back  gave  cheering  promise  for  the  night.  A  huge 
jng  of  beer,  mth  a  turnip  for  a  stopper,  leaned  against 
the  house ;  a  loaf  of  brown  bread,  a  bag  of  potatoes,  and  a 


828  AT   HOMS   AlTD   aBBOAB. 

pot  of  butter,  lay  upon  the  rude  table  before  the  dcor,  aud 
the  sight  of  these  preparations  gave  an  additional  whet  to 
our  appetite,  already  sharpened  by  the  keen  mountain  air. 
"  God  knows,"  said  the  Forester  (than  whom  there  is  no 
•nan  less  profane),  "this  is  what  I  have  been  wanting  to 
see  for  the  last  four  years.  This  is  a  night  to  be  remem- 
bered !" 

We  piled  on  the  logs  until  the  flames  rose  high  and  red, 
and  snapped  in  the  frosty  wind.  Schmidt,  at  the  Forester's 
order,  went  into  the  wood  for  green  fir-boughs,  which 
crackled  resinously,  and  sent  up  clouds  of  brilliant  sparks. 
But  it  was  long  dark  before  our  potatoes  were  boiled  and 
the  sausages  done  sputtering  upon  the  gridiron.  We  ate 
m  the  open  air,  with  the  thermometer  below  the  freezing 
point.  The  meal  was  royal ;  but  how  long  it  lasted  is  a 
secret  not  to  be  revealed,  except  among  the  freemasonry  of 
hunters  and  trappers.  "  Now,"  said  my  friend,  as  the  last 
potato  disappeared,  "let  us  turn  to  nobler  indulgences." 
Four  faded,  antique  chairs  were  brought  from  the  lodge, 
the  Forester,  my  friend,  sailor  and  self  took  our  seats 
around  the  fire,  and  Schmidt,  with  the  pipe  hanging  from 
his  teeth,  picked  up  a  burning  stick  and  pointed  out  the 
way  that  we  should  go.  The  wind  had  fallen,  and  the  roar- 
ing logs  diffused  a  warm  atmosphere  around  the  house  ^ 
beams  of  light  streamed  between  the  tree-trunks,  and 
turned  the  yellow  leaves  to  ruddy  gold ;  the  stars  looked 
down  as  their  turns  came,  and  twinkled  with  good-humor. 
In  short,  peace  was  upon  the  earth,  and  (so  far  as  we  were 
concerned)  good-will  towards  men. 

The  Forestei,  chuckling  now  and  then  with  inward  satia 


LIFE   TN  THE   THUEINGIAN    FOBEST.  329 

&ction,  went  back  through  his  record  of  sixty-two  years 
ftnd  took  out  whatever  chapters  he  thought  would  interest 
as — ^his  boyhood  in  the  stormy  Napoleonic  times,  his  youtb 
and  manhood  in  the  forest,  stalking  alone  for  game,  fight- 
ing with  poachers  and  outlaws,  or  accompanying  princely 
mateurs  on  their  frigid  hunting  excursions.  I  asked  him 
whether  he  had  ever  seen  Napoleon.  "Yes,"  said  he, 
"  twice  during  the  Congress  of  Erfurt.  The  first  time,  I 
was  going  home  from  school  with  a  big  slate  under  my  arm, 
when  I  saw  an  immense  crowd  of  men  in  front  of  the 
Castle.  A  carriage  was  standing  in  the  midst,  and  I  heard 
the  people  say:  'It  is  the  Emperor.'  For  a  hundred  feet 
around  they  were  packed  as  close  as  they  could  squeeze, 
but  I  thought  to  myself,  '  Karl,  thou  must  see  the  Emperor, 
if  thou  get'st  a  broken  rib  for  it.'  So  I  stooped  down, 
shot  between  the  leg  of  the  first  and  pushed  towards  the 
carriage.  When  the  crowd  became  so  thick  that  I  could 
get  no  further,  I  punched  first  one  and  then  the  other  with 
the  sharp  comer  of  my  slate,  and  did  not  spare  the  blows, 
until  they  made  a  way  for  me.  After  this  subterranean  pas- 
sage, I  found  myself,  with  very  little  breath  left,  just 
behind  Duke  August,  who  was  talking  with  the  Emperor. 
I  looked  over  the  Duke's  shoulder,  directly  into  Napoleon's 
fiace." 

"  What  did  you  think  of  him  ?»  I  asked.  "  Why,"  said 
he,  "the  portraits  you  see  represent  the  man  very  welL 
He  had  the  same  square,  solid  head,  but  his  skin  was  yellow 
and  looked  unclean  and  unhealthy.  His  eyes,  though — 
Donnerwetter !  such  eyes !  They  bored  into  you  like  a 
eoaple  of  augers.    Some  time  after  that  he  was  driving 


880  AT  HOME   AND  ABROAD. 

around  Erfurt  in  his  carriage,  and  I  ran  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  along  the  top  of  a  high  bank  beside  the  road,  keeping 
up  with  the  horses  and  looking  at  him.  He  had  a  table  in 
the  carriage  with  him,  covered  with  letters  and  papers ;  and 
-w  long  as  I  ran  he  never  once  looked  up,  but  read,  and 
in-Qte,  and  airanged.  At  that  time  the  Germans  used  to 
aay  that  his  death  would  be  the  salvation  of  the  country,  and 
the  thought  came  into  my  head,  '  Now,  if  thou  hadst  but  a 
pistol,  thou  mightst  easily  shoot  him  dead  before  he  kaeyf 
anything  about  it.'  " 

As  the  night  wore  on,  stories  gave  place  to  songs,  and 
the  Forester,  insisting  on  a  chorus,  gave  bout  for  bout  with 
my  friend,  and  revived  many  of  the  popular  ballads  of 
those  times.  There  was  a  droll  catch,  ridiculing  tie  Tyrol 
ese,  af  which  I  only  remember  the  following : 

"What's the  drink  of  the  Tyrolese? 
What's  their  drink? 
Nothing  but  water  and  sour  wine, 
Which  thfey  swill  Uke  thirsty  swine. 

"Say,  what  smoke  the  Tyrolese T 
What  do  they  smoke? 
Fine  tobacco  they  smoke,  to  be  sure : 
It  smells  no  better  than  stable  man'jre. 

"Where  are  the  beds  of  the  Tyrolese  ? 
Where  are  their  beds  ? 
Beautifiil  beds  have  man  and  spouse, 
Among  the  calves  and  among  the  cow^"  to. 

About  midnight  our  supply  of  logs,  large  as  it  was,  began 


IJPJ£  IN   THE  TUUBINGIAN   FOBEST.  33] 

to  fail.     We  had  been  too  prodigal  ii.  our  holocauBt,  and 
the   Forester  recommended  a  retreat  into  the  lodge,  the 
floor  of  which  was  covered  with  straw,  while  the  backs  oi 
the  old  chairs,  turned  bottom  upwards,  supplied  the  place  ol 
pillows.     I  will  not  say  that  we  slept  particularly  \^  ell,  but 
we  rose  all  the  earlier  for  that.     The  meadows  were  snoAv 
white  vnth  frost,  and  the  autumnal  woods  shone  brilliant  in 
the  rising  sun.     Opposite  us  was  the  Horselberg,  where  the 
Frau  Venus  (so  called  by  the  German  peasantry)  continued 
to  haunt  the  earth  as  late  as  the  twelfth  century.    Many  a 
knight  went  into  the  cavern  on  the  northern  side  of  the 
mountain,  to  seek  her,  but  none  ever  returned.     The  faith- 
ful Eckart,  the  squire  of  the  last  adventurer,  still  sits  at  the 
entrance  and  waits  for  his  master. 

We  walked  over  the  mountain  to  the  village  of  Ruhia, 
celebrated  for  its  length,  its  wealth,  and  its  pretty  girls. 
*'  Ah,"  said  the  Forester,  as  we  came  out  of  the  woods,  and 
looked  over  the  wide  sweep  of  sun-illumined  hills,  "  such 
days  as  this  are  a  blessing  of  Heaven.  I  remember  the 
time  when  just  a  sunny  morning  made  me  so  happy  that  1 
did  not  know  what  to  do  with  myself.  One  day  in  Sprnig, 
as  I  went  through  the  woods  and  saw  the  shadows  of  the 
young  leaves  upon  the  moss  and  smelt  the  buds  of  the  firs 
and  larches,  and  thought  to  myself,  '  All  thy  life  is  to  be 
spent  in  the  splendid  forest,'  I  actually  threw  myself  down 
and  rolled  in  the  grass  like  a  dog,  over  and  over,  crazy 
with  joy.  I  have  longed  to  have  the  same  feeling  once 
more  in  life,  but  it  never  oomes  back  again."  "  Oh,"  said 
I,  "  a  man  who  has  such  lively  blood  in  bis  veins,  does  not 
get  old  so  soon.'»    "  I  am  growing  old,  nevertheless,"  h«: 


S88  AT  HOME  ANA  ABBOAD. 

answered ;  *^  my  sight  is  not  so  keen  as  it  was,  and  latel} 
I  was  obliged  to  feel  ashamed  before  my  dog.  I  shot  at  a 
partridge  and  missed ;  the  beast  turned  around  and  looked 
me  full  in  the  face,  but  I  couldn't  meet  his  look — I  turned 
my  head  away  and  blushed.  I  have  no  doubt  the  pool 
dog  tries  to  account  for  my  Mlure  to  this  day,  but  he  cant 
make  it  out." 

We  came  home  again  the  same  night,  after  promising  to 
retiim  to  Thai  the  following  week,  when  the  Kirmse  would 
be  celebrated.  This  is  an  annual  festival  of  the  peasantry, 
of  very  remote  origin.  It  generally  takes  place  in  the 
Fall,  during  the  interval  between  Summer  and  Winter 
work,  and  lasts  from  two  to  three  days.  Formerly  the 
Kirmse  was  ushered  in  with  many  ceremonies  which  are 
now  almost  entirely  obsolete.  The  young  men  and  girls, 
in  holiday  dress,  formed  in  procession,  and  after  a  cock  had 
been  killed  by  the  leader,  marched  to  the  church,  where  an 
appropriate  service  was  performed.  A  sheep  was  then 
slaughtered  and  roasted,  and  the  Kirmse  was  thoroughly 
inaugurated  by  the  repast  which  followed. 

The  church  service  is  still  retained,  and  in  this  respect 
the  festival  bears  some  resemblance  to  our  Thanksgiving. 
The  preparations  are  made  by  a  committee  of  the  young 
peasants,  who  are  called  Kirmse-boys,  and  elect  a  leader 
whose  command  is  law.  Each  boy  chooses  a  maiden  as  hie 
partner,  and  the  latter  is  bound  to  purchase  him  a  gay 
silk  cravat  (which  he  pins  upon  his  right  shoulder  while 
dancing),  as  well  as  to  furnish  him  with  food  and  drink 
during  the  three  days.  This  costs  the  girls  from  two  tc 
three  thalers  ($2)  apiece,  a  considerable  sum  in  these  parts^ 


UFE  IN  THB  THUBINGIAN  FOBBST.  383 

but  they  manage  to  curtail  their  expenses  by  hiiing  a  com 
men  eating-room,  and  levying  contributions  of  meal,  pota 
toes,  sausages,  and  beer,  upon  all  the  families  in  the  neigh- 
borhood.    The  boys  furnish  the  music,  the  dancing-hall 
and  the  schnaps,  which  they  pay  for  from  the  fees  exacted 
from  those  who  do  not  belong  to  the  committee.     Tht 
Kirmse  is,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  carnival  for  the  German  pea- 
santry, and  they  allow  themselves  all  sorts  of  liberties  while 
it  lasts.     In  the  ducal  meadows  near  Coburg,  for  instance, 
the  Duke  and  Duchess  attend,  and  any  Kirmse-boy  i» 
privileged  to  call  out  the  latter,  while  the  Duke,  in  his 
turn,  waltzes  with  the  prettiest  peasant  gu-ls. 

We  went  again  to  Thai  on  the  last  day  of  the  Kirmse. 
The  fine  weather  was  past,  the  air  threatened  snow,  and 
the  revellers  were  beginning  to  show  signs  of  fatigue  ;  but 
the  Forester  comforted  us  with  the  assurance  that  in  the 
evening  all  would  be  merry  enough.  Soon  after  our 
arrival  the  village  band  appeared  and  performed  a  melan- 
choly serenade  under  the  window.  It  was  followed  by 
an  awkward  and  riotous  company,  who  proved  to  be 
raasqueraders — the  boys  being  girls  in  male  attire,  and 
vice  vers4.  Having  paid  our  initiation  fees  to  these  visi- 
tors, they  withdrew,  and  we  took  advantage  of  the 
temporary  quiet  to  climb  to  the  ruin  of  the  Scharfen 
Btoin.  We  found  nothing  left  except  the  tower,  whose 
walls  were  of  remarkable  thickness  and  solidity,  and  a 
fragment  of  a  wall  and  gateway,  over  which  was  sculptured 
a  coat  of  arms,  with  the  inscription,  "  House  and  Hearth 
of  the  Lord  of  Schartenberg,  a.d.  1442."  The  snow  wa«i 
blowing  fast  down  the  valley,  and  by  the  time  we  reached 


884  AT   HOME  AND   ABBOAD. 

the  Forester's  house  his  daughter  announced  that  dinnei 
was  ready. 

We  did  full  justice  to  the  roasted  hare  and  roe's  liver, 
and  did  not  slight  the  slim-necked  urns  filled  by  th« 
Rhenish  naiads.  Towards  the  close  of  the  repast,  the 
Forester  insisted  on  opening  a  stout  old  bottle,  in  order, 
as  he  said,  to  see  what  was  inside  of  it.  An  oily,  dark* 
golden  fluid  slid  into  his  glass  fi-om  its  open  mouth.  "^^ 
letaettemochhinein !  "  he  exclaimed,  on  tasting  it ;  "  that 
is  something !  That  is  the  bottle  I  have  had  in  my  cellar 
nine  years,  and  kept  for  a  great  occasion — :and  there  never 
was  a  better  time  to  open  it !  "  We  followed  his  example : 
it  was  genuine  Constantia,  fiiU  of  Afncan  sun  and  fire,  and 
from  twenty  to  thirty  years  old.  ^^  AUewetter  /  "  he  again 
cried,  "  I  had  forgotten  which  was  the  true  bottle,  and  to 
think  that  it  should  turn  up  to-day  !     The  Herr  Inspector 

X gave  it  to  me  for  my  birthday  ;  but  I  thought  to 

myself,  '  Thou  dost  not  need  any  such  good  wine  for  thy 
birthday — keep  it  for  something  better !  *  and  as  long  as  I 
live  I  shall  be  glad  that  I  did  so." 

By  this  time  the  band  had  made  its  appearance  under 
the  mighty  linden  in  front  of  the  pai'son's  house,  and 
waltzing  couples  began  to  wheel  around  under  the  boughs, 
notwithstanding  the  snow  and  the  raw  wind.  Presently  a 
deputation,  consisting  of  the  Kirmse-leader,  his  adjutant, 
nd  two  stout  maidens,  came  into  the  room  and  gave  us 
a  ceremonious  invitation  to  join  the  dance.  The  leadei 
was  a  rosy,  bright-eyed  fellow  of  twenty-two,  and  his 
partner  a  tall  maiden  of  great  strength,  who  stood  firm 
upon  her  feet.    "Directly,"  sidd  the  Forester,  in  answer j 


UPE   IN    THE  THDUINGIAN   FOBBST.  335 

"  but  we  must  first  have  our  pipes.  If  every  one  of  you," 
he  added,  turning  to  me,  "  were  lying  dead  in  this  room,  1 
should  sit  down  and  howl  like  a  dog,  but  in  fifteen  minutes 
I  should  get  up  and  light  my  pipe." 

As  our  pipes  burned  slowly,  the  deputation  came  a 
second  time  and  carried  us  off  to  the  linden-tree.  Th~* 
strong  maiden,  Elisabetha  by  name,  was  transferred  to  me, 
and  we  were  soon  whirling  around  inside  the  ring  of 
admiring  spectators.  Elisabetha  was  light  on  her  feet, 
but  very  firm ;  she  needed  no  support ;  she  moved  like  a 
revolving  pillar,  around  which  I  revolved  in  turn,  striving 
to  keep  pace  and  to  moderate  her  speed,  but  I  might  as 
well  have  attempted  to  regulate  the  earth's  motion  on  its 
axis.  The  Forester,  meanwhile,  brought  out  the  parson's 
daughter,  and  his  gray  moustache  occasionally  whizzed  past 
me.  I  would  have  transferred  the  strong  Elisabetha  to 
him,  but  it  was  too  late :  round  and  round  we  went,  and 
the  boughs  of  the  linden  seemed  to  grow  broader  and  to 
stretch  over  vast  spaces.  Finally,  there  were  lindens  on 
every  side,  and  we  were  obliged  to  circle  all  of  them  ;  but 
at  last  a  voice  roared  in  our  ears,  "  You  are  out  of  time  !  *» 
and  the  strong  maiden  stopped.  The  dances  under  the 
linden  terminated  soon  afterwards,  and  the  peasants  went 
off  to  prepare  for  the  night. 

We  fii'st  visited  the  Heiligenstein,  across  the  valleiy — 
»noe  a  monastery,  now  a  tavern ;  but  as  the  maidens  of 
Ruhla,  with  their  picturesque  dress  and  their  fair  com- 
plexions, did  not  arrive  according  to  expectation,  we 
returned  to  Thai,  where  the  Kirmse-boys  had  already  col- 
lected in  the  dancing-hall.    It  was  a  low  room,  opposite  the 


886  AT   HOME  AKB  ABROAD. 

nllage  tavern,  with  the  orchestra  on  a  platform  at  one  end 
The  floor  was  crowded  with  peasants,  leaving  only  a  ring 
shaped  space  vacant  for  the  dancers.  On  our  appearance 
there,  about  nine  o'clock,  I  was  immediately  accosted  by  the 
Kirmse-leader,  who  conducted  to  me  the  strong  Elisabetha 
It  was  impossible  to  decline,  for  she  was  his  chosen  sweet 
heart,  and  one  of  the  first  maidens,  in  point  of  her  worldly 
prospects,  in  the  valley.  I  resolved,  however,  to  let  her 
dance  for  both  of  us,  and  confine  my  exertions  merely  to 
holding  on.  My  companion  was  fm-nished  with  a  rather 
pretty  pai-tner,  named  Barbara  Hornshoe,  and  the  manner 
in  which  her  feet  pattered  upon  the  floor  did  justice  to  her 
name. 

The  Kirmse-leader  seemed  to  consider  us  the  guests  of 
the  village.  We  were  consulted  with  regard  to  the  dances, 
and  exempted  from  all  obedience  to  his  rule.  When  he 
touched  the  other  dancers  with  his  wooden  baton,  as  a  sign 
for  them  to  cease,  bt  passed  us  over,  greatly  to  the  delight 
of  our  powerful  partners,  whom  nothing  could  tire.  One 
of  the  dances  was  a  Polonaise^  and  consisted  in  the  whole 
company  following  the  leader,  who  was  Schmidt's  son. 
He  danced  us  down  stairs  into  the  street,  across  the 
brook  and  up  again,  winding  up  with  a  rapid  galop.  After 
awhile  the  leader  came  up  with  a  glass  of  some  dark  beve- 
rage, which  he  insisted  on  our  drinking,  I  tasted  it :  it 
was  scknaps^  the  most  villanous  kind  of  brandy,  and  as 
rtrong  as  it  was  bad.  One  taste  was  sufiicient,  but  it  was 
iko  sooner  offered  to  the  strong  Elisabetha  than  she  emptied 
the  glass  without  changing  a  muscle  of  her  countenance. 
The  quantity  of  this  vile  drink  consumed  by  the  peasant 


liEFli;   IN  THE   THUiiLNGIAN    iOKBST,  337 

girls,  without  any  apparent  effect,  surprised  me.  It  was  a 
stronger  proof  than  I  had  yet  had  of  the  vigor  of  their 
constitutions. 

Before  leaving  the  dancing-hall  I  gave  the  leader  what 
we  should  consider  a  very  trifling  fee,  but  it  was  so  large  in 
his  eyes,  that  the  munificence  of  the  American  guest  was 
talked  of  all  over  the  village.  We  were  serenaded  again 
the  next  day,  and  through  the  harmless  fratex-nization  of 
the  JKtrmse,  received  the  most  friendly  and  familiar  greet- 
ings on  all  sides.  As  for  the  Forester,  who  accompanied 
us  a  mile  or  two  of  our  way,  we  parted  from  him  a?  fi-om 
an  old  fiiend,  and  the  days  we  spent  under  his  roof  and 
beside  his  camp-fire  will  not  live  longer  in  his  memory  than 
in  ours. 


XXVIII. 

INTERVIEWS   WITH  GERMAN   AUTHORS. 


Whilb  at  Coburg  in  the  beginning  of  October,  1862,  1 
paid  a  visit  to  Rtlckert,  the  poet,  who  has  a  small  estate  in 
the  adjoining  village  of  Neusass.  He  has  the  reputation  of 
being  a  cold,  ascetic  man,  and  never  mingles  in  society. 
Very  few  of  the  Coburgers  know  him,  and  many  have 
never  once  seen  him.  I  fell  in  with  a  student  of  the  Orien- 
tal languages  who  had  some  acquaintance  with  him,  and 
accompanied  me  to  his  house.  As  we  were  passing  through 
the  garden  we  came  upon  him  suddenly,  standing  in  the 
midst  of  a  great  bed  of  rose-bushes  and  gathering  the 
seeds  of  flowers.  In  this  occupation  I  recognised  the 
author  of  "  Oriental  Roses,"  but  scarcely  the  poet  of  Love, 
the  ardent  disciple  of  Hafiz,  in  the  tall,  stern,  gi-ay-haired 
man  who  stood  before  me.  His  manner  at  first  was  rather 
cold  and  constrained,  but  it  was  the  constraint  of  a  scholar, 
tinacoastomed  to  strange  faces,  and  therefore  ill  at  ease 


INTEIiVrEWS    WITH    GERMAN   AUTHOES.  339 

He  invited  us  into  the  house,  and  commenced  the  conver- 
sation awkwardly,  by  asking  me :  "  Where  have  you  been  ?" 
**  In  the  Orient,"  I  answered.  This  was  enough.  A  sud- 
den enthusiasm  shot  into  his  face,  his  keen,  deep-set  eyes 
kindled,  and  his  whole  bearing  changed.  For  two  or  three 
hours  the  conversation  flowed  on  without  a  break — on  his 
part  a  full  stream  of  the  richest  knowledge,  sparkling  all 
over  with  gleams  of  poetry.  His  manner  towards  me  was 
earnest,  kind,  and  cordial,  and  charmed  me  all  the  more, 
because  I  had  decided  before  seeing  him,  that  he  was  unap- 
preciated and  misjudged  by  his  neighbors. 

I  was  surprised  to  find  that  Rtlckert,  who  is  probably  the 
finest  Oriental  scholar  in  Europe  ( witness  his  remarkable 
translation  of  the  MdhamM  el-Hariri)^  was  unacquainted 
with  the  true  Arabic  pronunciation.  This,  it  appears,  is 
not  taught  in  the  German  universities,  probably  on  account 
of  the  difficulty  of  giving  the  correct  guttural  sounds. 
Nevertheless,  he  is  the  only  one  who  has  ever  reproduced, 
in  another  language,  the  laborious  and  elaborate  Arabic 
and  Persian  metres.  His  knowledge  of  all  European  lan- 
guages is  even  more  profound,  and  although  he  does  not 
speak  English,  he  seems  to  comprehend  its  genius  as  tho- 
roughly as  that  of  his  native  tongue. 

Just  four  years  afterwards,  I  revisited  Coburg,  princi 
pally  for  the  sake  of  seeing  again  the  noble  old  poet,  who, 
having  heard  that  I  was  in  Gotha,  kindly  asked  me  to  call 
upon  him  before  leaving  Germany.  I  found  him  living  the 
game  studious,  secluded  life  in  the  little  village  of  Neusass, 
buried  in  his  Oriental  manuscripts  and  rarely  seen  by  men. 
His  wife  (the  Lmse  of  his  earlier  poems)   welcomed  me 


340.  AT  HOME  AKD  ABBOAB. 

with  cordiality,  and  two  blooming  daugl  iters  kept  up  a 
lively  conversation  until  the  poet  appeared.  Hdw  well  1 
remembered  ihat  frame,  tall  and  slender  as  Schiller's,  but 
erect  as  an  Arab  chieftain's;  that  stately  head,  with  the 
gray  hair  parted  in  front  and  falling  in  silver  masses  on  the 
shouldei-s;  the  strongly  modelled  brow,  under  which 
looked  out  eyes  full  of  a  soft,  lambent  fire,  like  those  of  a 
seer ;  the  straight,  strong  nose,  firm,  stem  lips,  and  pro- 
jecting chin,  a  milder  counterpart  of  Andrew  Jackson — 
the  head  of  a  thinker  and  a  poet ! 

Rtlckert  must  be  nearly,  if  not  quite,  seventy  years  of 
age.  He  is  still  (I  venture  to  say)  as  productive  as  ever, 
although  he  has  published  little  for  some  years  past.  His 
habits  of  study  have  made  him  shy  and  abstracted,  but  the 
same  habits  give  to  his  conversation  a  vigor  of  thought,  a 
richness  of  illustration,  and  a  glow  of  fancy,  which  I  think 
could  scarcely  have  been  surpassed  by  the  monologues  of 
Coleridge.  With  his  soft,  bright  eyes  directed  steadily 
before  him,  as  if  he  saw  the  horizon  of  the  desert,  he 
talked  of  the  Arabs  who  lived  before  Mohammed  with  the 
same  familiar  intelligence  as  he  would  speak  of  his  contem 
poraries.  The  lifting  of  his  glance,  as  he  turned  towards 
me  now  and  then,  in  the  earnestness  of  his  discourse,  was 
like  an  Eastern  sunrise.  The  East  lives  in  his  soul,  and 
warms  his  old  age  with  its  eternal  summer. 

Uhland  only  disputes  with  Rtlckert  the  title  of  being 
the  first  of  living  German  poets.  He  is  more  simple  and 
pathetic,  and  his  verses  appeal  more  directly  to  the  Ger- 
man heart.  Rtlckert,  on  the  other  hand,  is  half  an  Asiatic, 
wd  in  the  splendor  of  his  imagination,  as  well  as  his  won 


INTERVIEWS    WITH    GERMAN    ATJTHOBS.  341 

derfol  command  of  the  dexterities  of  his  native  language, 
is  scarcely  surpassed  by  El  Hariri  himself.  There  can  be 
no  comparison  between  the  two ;  they  stand  on  different 
pedestals.  Personally,  also,  the  men  have  no  resemblance. 
I  was  in  Tilbingen  in  1852 — the  home  of  Uliland — and 
could  not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  leave  without  speaking  to 
the  man  whose  "  Minstrel's  Curse  "  and  "  Little  Roland  " 
had  been  haunting  my  brain  for  so  many  years.  I  wrote 
a  note  stating  my  desire,  and  immediately  received  an  in- 
vitation to  call  upon  him.  I  found  him  in  a  house  over- 
looking the  valley  of  the  Neckar,  in  a  little,  dark,  barely 
furnished  library.  lie  came  forward  to  meet  me — a  small, 
wrinkled,  dry  old  man  of  at  least  seventy,  with  a  bald 
head  and  curious  puckers  in  the  corners  of  his  mouth  and 
eyes.  But  the  eyes  themselves  were  as  soft,  blue,  and 
clear  as  a  child's,  and  there  was  a  wiiming,  child-like  sim- 
plicity in  his  manner,  despite  a  certain  awkwardness  and 
frigidity  which  at  first  showed  itself. 

We  sat  down  together  on  the  little  leather-eovered  sofi 
behind  his  desk,  and  he  talked  very  pleasantly  for  an  hour. 
I  asked  whether  he  had  written  anything  recently,  Oi 
whether  he  had,  perhaps,  grown  weary  of  that 

"  Pleasure  in  poetic  pains, 
Which  only  poets  know." 

**  I  should  not  like  to  swear,"  he  said  in  answer,  "  that  1 
shall  write  no  more  songs.  I  have  as  much  pleasure  in 
what  I  have  done,  as  ever ;  but  there  is  no  longer  the  same 
necessity  for  expression,  and  I  never  write  without  a  strong 
Decessity.     I  hear  the  same  music  in  my  brain,  but  am  con- 


342  AT  HOMB  AJSTD  ABBOAD. 

tent  to  hear  it  without  singing  it."  Just  the  answer  1 
should  have  expected  from  a  true  poet. 

At  the  table  of  a  friend  in  Coburg  I  met  with  Frede- 
rick Gerstacker,  the  distinguished  traveller  and  author.  I 
had  spent  an  aftei'noon  with  him  in  the  Rosenthal,  near 
Ticipsic,  eleven  years  before;  but  he  had  compassed  the 
earth  since  then — had  ridden  across  the  Pampas,  washed 
gold  in  California,  played  the  guitar  in  Tahiti,  tramped 
through  Australia,  and  listened  to  the  songs  of  Malay  girls 
m  Java.  He  was  but  little  changed,  except  in  wearing  a 
thick  brown  beard,  which  mitigated  the  somewhat  harsh 
projection  of  his  under  jaw.  There  was  the  same  lithe, 
wiry  frame,  unworn  by  much  endurance,  the  sloping  brow, 
expanding  to  a  wedge-like  shape  at  the  temples,  and  the 
quick,  keen,  vivacious  gray  eye,  as  I  remembered  them  in 
1845.  Gerstacker  has  one  of  those  faces  which  are  never 
forgotten.  His  individuality  is  strongly  marked ;  he  takes 
and  gives  impressions  with  equal  force,  and  thus  adventures 
and  picturesque  experiences  come  to  him  unsought,  which 
is  the  greatest  fortune  a  traveller  can  have.  His  workt 
have  been  very  successful,  and  yield  him  (what  few  G«rmai/ 
authors  can  boast  of)  a  handsome  income. 

Duke  Ernest  of  Saxe-Coburg  Gotha,  who  is  distin- 
guished among  German  princes  by  an  intelligent  taste 
for  literature  and  art,  has  made  choice  of  Gerstacker  as 
his  special  friend  and  companion.  The  latter,  who  is  an 
enthusiastic  hunter,  accompanies  him  every  fall  to  the 
Tyrol,  where  they  spend  weeks  on  the  mountain-tops, 
sleeping  in  chalets,  and  creeping  all  day  among  the  rocks 
to  waylay   the  chamois.    They  had  just  returned  from 


UTTEB  VIEWS    WITH   6£&MA2I    AUTHOBS.  343 

Buoh  an  excursion,  during  which  Gerstacker,  in  spite  oi 
a  bullet-woui.d  in  his  left  hand,  succeeded  in  shooting  nine. 
He  was  then  engaged  in  writing  romances,  the  material  for 
which  was  m  most  part  derived  from  his  experiences  of 
travel.  I  do  not  believe,  however,  that  his  daring,  adven 
tnrous  spirit  will  be  long  satisfied  with  the  quiet  of  his 
home  at  Roseuau.  He  will  soon  crave  a  fresh  stock  of 
those  atal  experiences,  which  in  their  present  enjoyment 
fiir  so  pass  all  anticipation  and  all  memory. 

At  Dresden  I  was  welcomed  by  my  friend  Alexander 
Ziegl'^r,  who  had  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  the  midnight 
sun  »t  Hammerfest.  His  face  had  waxed  round  and  ruddy 
m  tl'c  breezes  of  the  North,  and  from  the  interest  with 
which  he  spoke  of  his  journey  I  at  once  anticipated  a  new 
volume  from  his  pen.  Ziegler  is  known  in  Germany  as  the 
author  of  Travels  in  America,  Spain,  and  the  Orient.  His 
works  are  distinguished  by  a  clear,  practical,  serious  habit 
of  observation,  a  scrupulous  attention  to  details,  combined 
with  considerable  power  of  generalization,  and  a  cheerful, 
genial  tone,  which  never  rises  into  the  realms  of  the  ima- 
gination, but  often  sparkles  with  touches  of  graphic  humorr 
He  is  enough  of  the  cosmopolite  to  enjoy  the  most  widely- 
separated  spheres  of  travel,  and  it  is  scarcely  likely  that  he 
will  remain  very  long  at  home  while  his  nature  retains  its 
present  buoyancy  and  restless  activity  of  life. 

Dresden  is  at  present  the  literary  capital  of  Grermany 
although  the  King  of  Bavaria,  by  drawing  around  him 
such  men  as  Bodenstedt  and  Geibel,  seeks  to  secure  that 
listinction  fi)r  Munich.  Freytag,  tlie  author  of  that  admi- 
rable novel,  "  SoU  und  Hahen^''  resides  in  Leipsic,  and 


344  Ai  HOMB  a:^d  abboab. 

MUgge,  whose  "Afraja"  has  charmed  American  readers, 
in  BerUn  ;  but  in  Dresden  are  grouped  Auexbach,  Gutskow, 
Dr.  Andree,  Wolfssohn,  Julius  Hammer,  and  Otto  Ro- 
quette,  besides  Professor  Reichenbach,  Steinle,  the  engra\rei 
Dahl,  the  old  Norwegian  painter,  and  a  host  of  othei 
artists.  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  the  pass-word  tc 
this  charmed  circle.  Authors  and  artists  have  the  same 
masonic  signs  all  over  the  world,  and  the  cloud  of  smoke 
which  filled  their  private  hall  of  meeting  in  the  rear  of  the 
Cafe  de  I'Europe  was  the  same  familiar  atmosphere  which 
my  fellow  centurions  are  wont  to  inhale  at  home. 

Auerbach,  whose  "  Dorfgeschichten  "  (Village  Stories) 
from  the  Black  Forest  have  a  European  reputation,  is  a 
short,  broad-shouldered,  muscular,  ruddy-faced  man,  about 
forty-six  years  of  age.  His  eyes  are  large,  wide  apart,  and 
brownish-gray,  and  the  lower  part  of  his  face  is  comfort- 
ably enveloped  in  a  short,  thick  brown  beard.  He  is  one 
of  those  hale,  honest,  clear-seeing  natures,  of  which  there 
are  too  few  in  the  world — a  mixture  of  keen  intelligence 
and  child-like  simplicity  and  naivete,  such  as  vre  find  in  the 
dramatists  of  the  Elizabethan  age.  He  knows  the  woods 
and  mountains  too  well  to  be  fettered  by  the  frigid  conven- 
tionalities which  rule  the  talk  of  society.  He  is  too  uncon- 
scious of  them  even  to  notice  them  with  his  scorn ;  but 
speaks  straight  from  the  heart,  whatever  comes  first,  and 
everything  as  it  comes — ^fun,  earnest,  satire,  enthusiasm. 
He  says  many  good  things,  and  even  where  he  hits  pretty 
•harply,  is  so  genial  and  true-hearted  thereby  that  no 
wound  is  left  behind. 

I  was  interested  to  find  how  immediately  Auerbach  and 


INTKK VIEWS   WITH   GKBKAN    AUTHOES.  845 

my  companion  understood  each  other.  Authors  have  per 
haps  the  .truest  instincts  of  character  in  other  men,  but 
those  who  lead  a  free  life  in  close  communion  with  nature 
— ^hunters,  sailors,  and  lumbermen^  who  can  dare  to  act 
without  subterfuge,  compromise,  or  even  the  ordinary 
considerations  of  worldly  prudence — are  scarcely  less  cor* 
rect  in  their  sympathies.  They  may  be  unable  to  appre- 
ciate particular  ranges  of  intellect,  but  they  read  character 
at  1  glance.  The  German  author  and  the  American  sailor, 
in  spite  of  their  totally  divergent  lives  and  experiences  of 
mankind,  knew  each  other  at  first  sight,  with  as  just  an 
estimation  as  the  literary  friends  of  the  one  or  the  faithfiil- 
est  shipmates  of  the  other,  after  years  of  familiar  intercourse. 

Dr.  Karl  Andree,  the  distinguished  geographer,  was  in 
one  respect  a  wonder  to  me.  There  is  not  a  man  in 
Europe,  I  venture  to  say,  and  not  a  great  many  in  the 
United  States,  who  possess  such  an  intimate  knowledge  of 
our  country  and  its  institutions,  its  geography,  its  statistics, 
and  its  social  and  political  life.  It  was  cunous  to  sit  in  hia 
library  in  Dresden,  knowing  that  he  had  never  ci'ossed  the 
Atlantic,  and  to  hear  him  discuss  the  aberrations  of  Ameri- 
can editors,  and  reveal  the  wire-working  of  our  demagogues 
and  political  jugglers,  even  to  the  smallest.  Andree  is  at 
the  same  time  one  of  the  hardest  workers  and  best  com- 
panions in  the  world — a  mixture  which  I  wish  were  more 
common  in  America.  We  have  the  workers  in  plenty,  but 
work  too  often  robs  us  of  the  social  amenities  of  life. 

In  company  with  Ziegler  I  called  upon  Gutzkow,  the 
dramatist,  who  unquestionably  stands  at  the  head  of  living 
German  writers  for  the  stage.     His  play  of  "  Zopf  und 


846  XT  HOMB  AND  JLBBOAD. 

Schwert ''  (Queue  and  Sword)  has  for  many  years  kept  a 
place  on  the  boards  of  all  the  theatres  between  the  Alps 
and  the  Baltic.  He  is  a  small  man,  forty  years  of  age, 
with  blonde  hair  and  moustache,  gray  eyes,  a  forcible  nose, 
and  an  expression  in  which  keenness  and  clearness  of 
mental  insight  is  predominant.  Judging  by  his  face,  I 
should  say  that  he  is  patient,  persevering,  and  conscien- 
tious in  execution,  sharp  and  rapid  in  his  appreciation  of 
what  he  needs  and  can  use,  but  effective  rather  through  hia 
outside  knowledge  of  men  and  of  life,  than  from  great 
power  and  warmth  of  passion  in  himself.  His  bearing  was 
courteous  and  kind,  but  he  impressed  me  Uke  a  clear 
winter  morning  after  feeling  the  mellow  summer  glow  of 
Auerbach. 

Wolfssohn,  whose  recent  success  as  a  dramatist,  in  his 
play  of  *■'-  Nur  eine  Seele^^  (Only  a  Soul),  has  delighted  his 
friends,  and  brought  him  what  true  success  always  brings — 
envy — is  also  distinguished  for  his  translations  from  the 
Russian.  He  resided  for  some  time  in  Moscow,  and  has 
made  his  knowledge  of  Russian  life  very  effective  in  his 
plays,  which  are  mostly  Russian  in  subject.  He  is  a  quiet, 
genial,  studious  man,  and  I  regretted  that  a  temporary 
indisposition  prevented  me  from  seeing  as  much  of  him  as 
I  wished. 

Julius  Hammer  is  the  author  of  a  volume  of  poems 
entitled  "  Schau  in  Dich  und  Schau  um  Dich "  (Look 
within  Thee  and  around  Thee).  It  is  one  of  the  most  suc- 
cessful of  recent  books  of  German  poems,  having  rapidlj 
run  through  five  editions.  Its  character  is  serious  and 
reflective,  rather  than  imaginative,  but    pervaded  with 


INTKEVIEWS   WItH   GEBMAl!f    AUTHOES.  849 

warm  auman  sympathies.  In  calling  upon  Hammer  1  met 
with  one  of  those  pleasant  surprises  which  rarely  come 
to  those  who  sond  their  children  into  the  world,  trusting 
their  existence  to  their  own  powers  of  vitality.  He  was 
sitting  at  his  desk,  writing  the  last  line  of  a  translation  of 
one  of  my  own  poems,  which  he  immediately  read  to  me  in 
its  new  dress. 

While  in  Berlin,  the  same  year,  I  paid  a  visit  to  Dr.  Karl 
Ritter,  the  distinguished  geographer,  to  whom  I  had  a 
letter  of  introduction  from  my  friend  Ziegler.  I  found 
him  at  his  rooms,  overlooking  the  Gendarm-markt,  and, 
though  I  happened  to  call  during  his  hours  of  study,  was 
at  once  admitted.  Through  two  rooms,  crammed  with 
books  from  floor  to  ceiling,  I  passed  to  his  workshop, 
which  was  furnished  in  the  same  manner,  and  exhaled  the 
same  delightfully  infectious  odor  of  antique  leather.  He 
was  sitting  at  his  desk,  in  the  midst  of  a  chaos  of  books 
and  papers,  but  rose  and  came  forward  as  I  entered. 
Here  was  again  a  massive  Teutonic  head,  larger  than 
Humboldt's,  but  not  so  symmetrically  balanced,  a  broad, 
overhanging  brow,  shading  large  and  friendly  eyes,  a 
strong  nose,  and  one  of  those  ample,  irregular  mouths, 
in  which  the  expression  of  kindness  and  goodness  atones 
for  the  absence  of  beauty.  His  hair  was  gray  and  thin, 
for  he  must  have  seen  at  least  sixty-five  summers,  but  his 
tall  figm-e  was  still  erect  and  full  of  strength.  The 
dressing-gown  he  wore,  with  his  unbuttoned  collar  and 
bare  throat,  gave  a  cei-tain  gracie  and  dignity  to  his 
appearance,  not  unlike  that  which  belongs  to  the  picture 
of  Goethe  in  his  latter  days. 


848  AT  nO^EB   AND   ABKOAD. 

Our  conversation  was  mostly  geographical,  aud  though 
I  remained  but  half  an  hour,  through  fear  of  interrupting 
his  labors,  it  served  to  illustrate  his  immense  knowledge. 
He  touched  upon  the  Japanese  and  the  Chinese,  the  Tartar? 
and  Thibetans,  the  Lapps  and  Sauioyeds,  the  Shillooks,  the 
IJinkas,  and  the  Bushmen ;  described  the  formation  of 
their  respective  countries,  the  climate  and  productions, 
their  habits,  laws,  and  religions.  My  projected  journey 
to  Lapland  appeared  to  interest  him,  and  he  advised  me  to 
notice  the  result  of  the  Swedish  missionary  labors  among 
that  people,  and  to  contrast  it  with  the  operation  of  similar 
labors  in  India  and  China.  The  interior  of  Swedish  Lapp- 
mark  was,  he  admitted,  a  comparatively  unknown  region, 
and  he  commended  my  design  of  visiting  it  in  the  winter, 
when  tlie  facilities  of  getting  from  point  to  point  are  much 
greater  than  in  summer,  and  the  Lapps  are  gathered  to- 
gether in  their  villages.  He  recommended  the  work  of 
Leopold  von  Buch  as  the  best  description  of  Norway  and 
Lapland.  Hitter  is  now  engaged  in  the  publication  of  a 
Universal  (xeography,  which,  so  far  as  it  has  appeared,  far 
surpasses  all  previous  works  of  the  same  character,  in  the 
richness  and  accuracy  of  its  information.  The  Germans 
are  undoubtedly  at  present  the  greatest  geographers  in  the 
world,  and  the  French,  despite  their  claims,  the  worst. 

I  was  fortunate  in  having  a  letter  to  Theodor  MUgge. 
the  author  of  "Afraja"  and  "Eric  Randal"  When  I 
called  at  his  residence,  according  to  a  previous  appoint- 
ment, a  pretty  little  girl  of  seven  or  eight  years  opened 
the  door.  "  Is  Herr  Dr.  Mflgge  at  home  ?  "  I  asked.  She 
went  to  an  adjacent  door  and  cried  out,  "  Father,  are  yon 


INTKK  VIEWS  WITH   GERMAN   AUTHOB8.  84t 

at  homo  ?  "  "  «^  woAi!,"  answered  a  sturdy  voice ;  and 
presently  a  tall,  broad-shouldered,  and  rather  handsome 
man  of  over  forty  years  made  his  appearance.  He  wore  a 
thick,  brown  beard,  spectacles,  was  a  little  bald  about  the 
temples,  and  spoke  with  a  decided  North-German  accent. 
His  manner  at  first  was  marked  Avith  more  reserve  than  is 
common  among  Germans ;  but  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meet- 
ing him  more  than  once,  and  found  that  the  outer  shell 
covered  a  kernel  of  good  humor  and  good  feeling. 

Like  many  other  authoi-s,  Mtlgge  has  received  hardly  as 
much  honor  in  his  own  country  as  he  deserves.  Hie 
"Afraja,"  one  of  the  most  remarkable  romances  of  this 
generation,  is  just  beginning  to  be  read  and  valued.  He 
was  entirely  unacquainted  with  the  fact  that  it  had  been 
translated  in  America,  where  five  or  six  editions  were  sold 
in  a  very  few  months.  I  could  give  him  no  better  evidence 
of  its  success  than  the  experience  of  a  friend  of  mine,  who 
was  carried  thirteen  miles  past  his  home,  on  a  New-Haven 
railroad  train,  while  absorbed  in  its  pages.  He  informed 
me  that  the  idea  of  the  story  was  suggested  to  him  during 
nis  residence  at  Tromsoe,  on  the  Norwegian  coast,  where, 
among  some  musty  official  records,  he  found  the  minutes  of 
the  last  trial  and  execution  of  a  Lapp  for  witchcraft,  about 
a  century  ago.  This  Lapp,  who  was  a  sort  of  Chieftain  in 
his  clan,  had  been  applied  to  by  some  Danish  traders  to 
fumiah  them  with  good  wind  duiing  their  voyage.  He 
sold  them  breeze  from  the  right  quarter,  but  the  vessel 
was  wrecked  and  all  hands  drowned.  When  asked,  during 
his  tnal,  whether  he  had  not  furnished  a  bad  instead  of  a 
good  wind,  be  answered  haughtily :  "  Yes,  I  sold  them  th* 


350  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

bad  wind,  because  I  hated  them,  as  I  hate  yoa,  and  all  th€ 
brood  of  thieves  who  have  robbed  me  and  my  people  of 
our  land."  I  referred  to  the  character  of  Niels  Helgestad 
and  spoke  of  his  strong  resemblance,  in  many  respects,  to 
one  of  our  Yankee  traders  of  the  harder  and  coarser  kind 
Mtlgge  assured  me  that  I  would  find  many  of  the  same 
type  still  existing,  when  I  should  visit  the  Lofoden  isles. 
He  spent  a  Summer  among  the  scenes  described  in  "Afraja," 
and  his  descriptions  are  so  remarkably  faithful  that  Alex- 
ander Ziegler  used  the  book  as  his  best  guide  in  going  oyei 
the  same  ground. 


XXIX. 

ALEXANDER   YON   HUMBOLDT. 


I  CAMS  to  Berlin  for  the  first  time,  in  November,  1856,  noi 
to  visit  its  museums  and  galleries,  its  magnificent  street  of 
lindens,  its  operas  and  theatres,  nor  to  mingle  in  the  gay 
life  of  its  streets  and  salons,  but  for  the  sake  of  seeing  and 
speaking  with  the  world's  greatest  living  man — ^Alexander 
von  Humboldt. 

At  that  time,  with  his  great  age  and  his  universal  renown, 
regarded  as  a  throned  monarch  in  the  world  of  science,  his 
friends  were  obliged,  perforce,  to  protect  him  from  the  ex- 
haustive homage  of  his  thousands  of  subjects,  and,  for  his 
own  sake,  to  make  difficult  the  ways  of  access  to  him.  The 
friend  and  familiar  companion  of  the  king,  he  might  be 
•aid,  equally,  to  hold  his  own  court,  with  the  privilege, 
however,  of  at  any  time  breaking  through  the  formalities 
which  only  self-defence  had  rendered  necessary.  Some  of 
my  works,  I  knew,  had  found  their  way  into  his  hands :  I 


352  AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

was  at  the  beginning  of  a  journey  which  would  probabl;; 
lead  me  through  regions  which  his  feet  had  traversed  and 
his  genius  illustrated,  and  it  was  not  merely  a  natural 
curiosity  which  attracted  me  towards  him.  I  followed  the 
advice  of  some  German  friends,  and  made  use  of  no  media 
ory  influence,  but  simply  dispatched  a  note  to  him,  stating 
my  name  and  object,  and  asking  for  an  interview. 

Three  days  afterwards  I  received  through  the  city  post 
a  reply  in  his  own  hand,  stating  that,  although  he  was 
suffering  from  a  cold  which  had  followed  his  removal  from 
Potsdam  to  the  capital,  he  would  willingly  receive  me,  and 
appointed  one  o'clock  the  next  day  for  the  visit.  I  was 
punctual  to  the  minute,  and  reached  his  residence  in  the 
Oranienburger-strasse,  as  the  clock  struck.  While  in  Berlin, 
he  lived  with  his  servant,  Seifert,  whose  name  only  I  found 
on  the  door.  It  was  a  plain  two-story  house,  with  a  dull 
pink  front,  and  inhabited,  like  most  of  the  houses  in 
German  cities,  by  two  or  three  families.  The  bell-wire 
over  Seifert's  name  came  from  the  second  story.  I  pulled : 
the  heswy  porte-coch^e  opened  of  itself,  and  I  mounted  the 
steps  until  I  reached  a  second  bell-pull,  over  a  plate  in 
scribed  "Alexander  von  Humboldt." 

A  stout,  square-faced  man  of  about  fifty,  whom  I  at  once 
recognized  as  Seifert,  opened  the  door  for  me,  "  Are  you 
llcrr  Taylor?"  he  asked;  and  added,  on  receiving  my 
reply  ;  "  His  Excellency  is  ready  to  receive  you."  He 
ushered  me  into  a  room  filled  with  stuflFed  birds  and  other 
objects  of  natural  history;  then  into  a  large  library,  which 
apparently  contained  the  gifts  of  authors,  artists,  and  men 
of  science,  I  walked  between  two  long  tables  heaped  with 


▲LEXAJSUEK    VO^   HUAIBOLDT.  358 

«mn]>tuou8  folios,  to  the  further  door,  which  optned  into  the 
study.  Those  who  have  seen  the  admirable  colored  litho- 
graph of  Hildebrand's  picture,  know  precisely  how  the 
room  looks.  There  was  the  plain  table,  the  writing-desk 
covered  with  letters  and  manuscripts,  the  little  green  sofa, 
and  the  same  maps  and  pictures  on  the  drab-colored  walls. 
The  picture  had  been  so  long  hanging  in  my  own  room  at 
homfe,  that  I  at  once  recognised  each  particular  object. 

Seifert  w  eut  to  an  inner  door,  announced  my  name,  and 
Humboldt  immediately  appeared.  He  came  up  to  me  with 
a  heartiness  and  cordiality  which  made  me  feel  that  I  was  in 
the  presence  of  a  friend,  gave  me  his  hand,  and  inquii'ed 
whether  we  should  converse  in  English  or  German.  "  Your 
letter,"  said  he,  "  was  that  of  a  German,  and  you  must 
certainly  speak  the  language  familiarly ;  but  I  am  also  in 
the  constant  habit  of  using  English."  He  insisted  on  my 
taking  one  end  of  the  green  sofa,  observing  that  he  rarely 
sat  upon  it  himself,  then  drew  up  a  plain  cane-bottomed 
chair  and  seated  himself  beside  it,  asking  me  to  speak  a 
little  louder  than  usual,  as  liis  hearing  was  not  so  acute  as 
formerly. 

As  I  looked  at  the  majestic  old  man,  the  line  of  Tennyson, 
describing  Wellington,  came  into  my  mind:  "Oh,  good 
gray  head,  which  all  men  knew."  The  first  impression 
made  by  Humboldt's  face  was  that  of  a  broad  and  genia 
humanity.  His  massive  brow,  heavy  with  the  galheied 
wisdom  of  nearly  a  century,  bent  forward  and  overhung 
his  breast,  like  a  ripe  ear  of  corn,  but  as  you  looked  below 
it,  a  pair  o*"  clear  blue  eyes,  almost  as  bright  and  steady  as 
a  child's,  met  your  own.    In  those  eyes  you  read  that  ti'ust 


354  AT   HOAtE   AND   ABBOAD. 

in  man,  that  immortal  youth  of  the  ieart,  which  made  thi 
Bnows  of  eighty-seven  Winters  lie  so  lightly  upon  his  head 
You  trusted  him  utterly  at  the  first  glance,  and  you  felt 
that  he  would  trust  you,  if  you  were  worthy  of  it.  I  had 
approached  him  with  a  natural  feeling  of  reverence,  but  in 
five  minutes  I  found  that  I  loved  him,  and  could  talk  with 
him  as  fleely  as  with  a  friend  of  my  own  age.  His  nose, 
mouth,  and  chin  had  the  heavy  Teutonic  character,  whose 
genuine  type  always  expresses  an  honest  simplicity  and 
directness. 

I  was  most  surprised  by  the  youthful  character  of  his 
face.  I  knew  that  he  had  been  frequently  indisposed 
during  the  year,  and  had  been  told  that  he  was  beginning 
to  show  the  marks  of  his  extreme  age,  but  I  should  not 
have  suspected  him  of  being  over  seventy-five.  His  wrin- 
kles were  few  and  small,  and  his  skin  had  a  smoothness  and 
delicacy  rarely  seen  in  old  men.  His  hair,  although  snow- 
white,  was  still  abundant,  his  step  slow  but  firm,  and  his 
manner  active  almost  to  restlessness.  He  slept  but  four 
hours  out  of  the  twenty-four,  read  and  replied  to  his  daily 
rain  of  letters,  and  suffered  no  single  occurrence  of  the  least 
interest  in  any  part  of  the  world  to  escape  his  attention.  I 
could  not  perceive  that  his  memory,  the  first  mental  faculty 
to  show  decay,  was  at  all  impaired.  He  talked  rapidly, 
with  the  greatest  apparent  ease,  never  hesitating  for  a  word, 
whether  in  English  or  German,  and,  in  fact,  seemed  to  be 
unconscious  which  language  he  was  using,  as  he  changed 
five  or  six  times  in  the  course  of  the  conversation.  He  did 
not  remain  in  his  chair  more  than  ten  minutes  at  a  timC; 
frequently  getting  up  and  walking  about  the  room,  now  and 


▲LEXANDBB   VON   HUMBOLDT.  86£ 

then  point  ng  to  a  picture  or  opening  a  book  to  illastrat« 
Bome  remark. 

He  began  by  referring  to  my  winter  journey  into  Lap- 
land. "  Why  do  you  choose  the  winter  ?  "  he  asked  • 
'  Your  experiences  will  be  very  interesting,  it  is  true,  but 
will  you  not  suffer  from  the  severe  cold  ?  "  "  That  remains 
to  be  seen,"  I  answered.  "  I  have  tried  all  climates  except 
the  Arctic,  without  the  least  injury.  The  last  two  years 
of  my  travels  were  spent  in  tropical  countries,  and  now  I 
wish  to  have  the  strongest  possible  contrast."  "  That  ia 
quite  natural,"  he  remarked,  "  and  I  can  understand  how 
your  object  in  travel  must  lead  you  to  seek  such  contrasts  ; 
but  you  must  possess  a  remarkably  healthy  organization." 
"  You  doubtless  know,  from  your  own  experience,"  I  said, 
"that  nothing  preserves  a  man's  vitality  like  traveL'* 
"  Very  true,"  he  answered,  "  if  it  does  not  kill  at  the 
outset.  For  my  part,  I  keep  my  health  everywhere,  like 
yourself.  During  five  years  in  South  America  and  the 
West  Indies,  I  passed  through  the  midst  of  black  vomit 
and  yellow  fever  untouched." 

I  spoke  of  my  projected  visit  to  Russia,  and  my  desire 
to  traverse  the  Russian-Tartar  provinces  of  Central  Asia. 
The  Kirghiz  steppes,  he  said,  were  very  monotonous ;  fifty 
miles  gave  you  the  picture  of  a  thousand;  but  the  people 
were  exceedingly  interesting.  If  I  desired  to  go  there,  1 
would  have  no  difficulty  in  passing  through  them  to  the 
Chinese  frontier ;  but  the  southern  provinces  of  Siberia,  he 
thought,  would  best  repay  me.  The  scenery  among  the 
Altai  Mountains  was  very  grand.  From  his  window  in  one 
of  the  Siberian  towns,  he  had  counted  eleven  peaks  covered 


406  Al   HOM£  Aim  ABBOAD. 

with  eternal  snow.  The  Barghizes,  he  added,  were  among 
the  few  races  whose  habits  had  remained  unchanged  for 
thousands  of  years,  and  they  had  the  remarkable  pecu- 
Uarity  of  combining  a  monastic  Avith  a  nomadic  life,  Tbey 
were  partly  i  Buddhist  and  partly  Mussulman,  and  their 
monkish  sects  followed  the  different  clans  in  their  wander 
ings,  carrying  on  their  devotions  in  the  encampments, 
inside  of  a  sacred  circle  marked  out  by  spears.  He  liad 
seen  their  ceremonies,  and  was  struck  with  their  resem- 
blance to  those  of  the  Catholic  church. 

Humboldt's  recollections  of  the  Altai  Mountains  natu 
rally  led  him  to  speak  of  the  Andes.  "  You  have  travelled 
in  Mexico,"  said  he :  "  do  you  not  agree  with  me  in  the 
opinion  that  the  finest  mountains  in  the  world  are  those 
single  cones  of  perpetual  snow  rising  out  of  the  splendid 
vegetation  of  the  tropics  ?  The  Himalayas,  although  lof 
tier,  can  scarcely  make  an  equal  impression ;  they  lie 
further  to  the  north,  without  the  belt  of  tropical  growths, 
and  their  sides  are  dreary  and  sterile  in  comparison.  You 
remember  Orizaba,"  continued  he  ;  "  here  is  an  engraving 
from  a  rough  sketch  of  mine.  I  hope  you  will  find  it 
correct."  He  rose  and  took  down  the  illustrated  folio 
which  accompanied  the  last  edition  of  his  "  Minor  Writ- 
ings," turned  over  the  leaves  and  recalled,  at  each  plate, 
some  reminiscence  of  his  American  travel.  "  I  still  think,'' 
he  remarked  as  he  closed  the  book,  "  that  Chimborazo  ii 
the  grandest  mountain  in  the  world." 

Among  the  objects  in  his  study  was  a  living  chameleon, 
in  a  box  with  a  glass  lid.  The  animal,  which  was  about 
six  inches  long,  was  lazily  dozing  on  a  bed  of  sand,  with  a 


AUCZANDSB   YOJ^    HUMBOLDT.  35) 

big  blue-fly  (the  unconscious  provision  for  his  dinner) 
perched  upon  his  back.  "  He  has  just  been  sent  to  me 
from  Smyrna,"  said  Humboldt ;  "he  is  very  listless  and 
miconcerned  in  his  manner."  Just  then  the  chameleon 
opened  one  of  his  long,  tubular  eyes,  and  looked  up  at  us 
•*A  peculiarity  of  this  animal,"  he  continued,  "is  its  powei 
of  looking  in  different  directions  at  the  same  time.  H 
can  turn  one  eye  towards  heaven,  while  with  the  other  he 
mspects  the  earth.  There  are  many  clergymen  who  have 
the  same  power." 

After  showing  me  some  of  Hildebrand's  water-color 
drawings,  he  returned  to  his  seat  and  began  to  converse 
about  American  affairs,  with  which  he  seemed  to  be 
entirely  familiar.  He  spoke  with  great  admiration  of 
Colonel  Fremont,  whose  defeat  he  profoundly  regi-etted. 
"*  But  it  is  at  least  a  most  cheering  sign,"  he  said,  "  and 
an  omen  of  good  for  your  country,  that  more  than  a 
million  of  men  supported  by  their  votes  a  man  of  Fre- 
mont's character  and  achievements."  With  regard  to 
Buchanan,  he  said :  "  I  had  occasion  to  speak  of  his 
Ostend  Manifesto  not  long  since,  in  a  letter  which  has 
been  published,  and  I  could  not  characterize  its  spirit  by 
any  milder  term  than  savaged  He  also  spoke  of  our 
authors,  and  inquired  particularly  after  Washington  Irving 
whom  he  had  once  seen.  I  told  him  I  had  the  fortune  to 
know  Mr.  Irving,  and  had  seen  him  not  long  before  leaving 
New  York.  "  He  must  be  at  least  fifty  years  old,"  said 
Humboldt.  "  He  is  seventy,"  I  answered,  "  but  as  young 
as  ever."  "  Ah ! "  said  he,  "  I  have  lived  so  long  that  1 
ha\e   almost  lost  the   consciousness   of  time.     I  belong 


868  AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

to  the  age  of  Jefferson  and  Gallatin,  and  I  heard  of 
Washington's  death  while  travelling  in  South  America." 

I  have  repeated  but  the  smallest  portion  of  his  conver 
sation,  which  flowed  on  in  an  uninterrupted  stream  of  the 
richest  knowledge.  On  recalling  it  to  my  mind,  aftei 
leaving,  I  was  surprised  to  find  how  great  a  number  ol 
subjects  he  had  touched  upon,  and  how  much  he  had  said, 
or  seemed  to  have  said — for  he  had  the  rare  faculty  of 
placmg  a  subject  in  the  clearest  and  most  vivid  light  by  a 
few  luminous  words — concerning  each.  He  thought,  as  he 
talked,  without  effort.  I  should  compare  his  brain  to  the 
fountain  of  Vaucluse — a  still,  deep,  and  tranquil  pool, 
without  a  ripple  on  its  surface,  but  creating  a  river  by 
its  overflow.  He  asked  me  many  questions,  but  did  not 
always  wait  for  an  answer,  the  question  itself  suggesting 
some  reminiscence,  or  some  thought  which  he  had  evident 
Dleasure  in  expressing.  I  sat  or  walked,  following  his 
movements,  an  eager  listener,  and  speaking  in  alternate 
English  and  German,  until  the  time  which  he  had  granted 
to  me  had  expired.  Seifert  at  length  reappeared  and  said 
to  him,  m  a  manner  at  once  respectful  and  familiar,  "  It  is 
time,"  and  I  took  my  leave. 

"  You  have  travelled  much,  and  seen  many  ruins,"  said 
Humboldt,  as  he  gave  me  his  hand  again ;  "  now  you 
have  seen  one  more."  "  Not  a  ruin,"  I  could  not  help  reply- 
ing, "  but  a  pyramid."  For  I  pressed  the  hand  which  had 
touched  those  of  Frederick  the  Great,  of  Forster,  the 
companion  of  Capt.  Cook,  of  Klopstock  and  Schiller,  of 
Rtt,  Napoleon,  Josephine,  the  Marshals  of  the  Empire, 
Jefferson,  Hamilton,  Wieland,  Herder,  Goethe,  Cuvicsr,  La 


ALEXANDER   VOX    HUMBOLDT.  35P 

Place,  Gay  Lussac,  Beethoven,  Walter  Scott — ^in  short,  of 
every  great  man  whom  Europe  has  produced  for  three- 
quarters  of  a  century.  I  looked  into  the  eyes  which  had 
not  only  seen  this  living  history  of  the  world  pass  by, 
scene  after  scene,  till  the  actors  retired  one  by  one,  to 
return  no  more,  but  had  beheld  the  cataract  of  Atures  and 
the  forests  of  the  Cassiquiare,  Chimborazo,  the  Amazon, 
and  Popocatepetl,  the  Altaian  Alps  of  Siberia,  the  Tartar 
steppes,  and  the  Caspian  Sea.  Such  a  splendid  circle  of 
experience  well  befitted  a  life  of  such  generous  devotion 
to  science.  I  have  never  seen  so  sublime  an  example  of 
old  age — crowned  with  imperishable  success,  full  of  the 
ripest  wisdom,  cheered  and  sweetened  by  the  noblest  attri- 
butes of  the  heart.  A  ruin,  indeed!  No:  a  human 
temple,  perfect  as  the  Parthenon. 

As  I  was  passing  out  through  the  cabinet  of  Natural 
History,  Seifert's  voice  arrested  me.  "  I  beg  your  pardon, 
Sir,"  said  he,  "but  do  you  know  what  this  is?"  pointing 
to  the  antlers  of  a  Rocky-Mountain  elk.  "  Of  course  I 
do,"  said  I,  "  I  have  helped  to  eat  many  of  them."  He 
then  pointed  out  the  other  specimens,  and  took  me  into 
the  hbrary  to  show  me  some  drawings  by  his  son-in-law, 
MoUhausen,  who  had  accompanied  Lieut.  Whipple  in  his 
expedition  to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  He  also  showed  me 
a  very  elaborate  specimen  of  bead-work,  in  a  gilt  frame. 
"  This,"  he  said,  "  is  the  work  of  a  Kirghiz  princess,  who 
presented  it  to  His  Excellency  when  we  were  on  our  jour 
ney  to  Siberia."  "  You  accompanied  His  Excellency  then  ?'' 
I  asked.  "  Yes,"  said  he ;  "  we  were  there  in  '29."  Seifert 
is  justly  proud  of  ha\dng  shared  for  thirty  or  forty  years 


860  AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

the  fortunes  of  his  master.  Th^re  was  a  ring,  and  a  ser 
vant  came  in  to  announce  a  visitor.  "  Ah,  the  Prince 
Ypsilanti,"  said  he :  "  don't  let  him  in ;  don't  let  a  single 
soul  in ;  I  must  go  and  di-ess  His  Excellency.  Sir,  excuse 
me — ^yours,  most  respectfully,"  and  therewith  he  bowed 
himself  out.  As  I  descended  to  the  street,  I  passed  Prince 
Ypsilanti  on  the  stairs. 


In  October,  1857, 1  was  once  more  in  Berlin,  on  my  re- 
turn fi-om  the  North  of  Europe.  As  I  had  some  business 
to  transact,  which  would  detain  me  three  or  four  days,  ] 
sent  a  note  to  Humboldt,  asking  permission  to  call  upon 
him  again,  in  case  his  time  permitted  the  visit.  The  next 
day's  express  from  Potsdam  brought  me  a  most  kind  and 
friendly  reply,  welcoming  me  back  to  the  "Baltic  sand- 
sea,"  as  he  called  the  Brandenburg  plain,  and  stating  that, 
although  the  Emperor  Alexander  and  his  suite  were  to 
arrive  that  evening,  he  would  nevertheless  take  an  hour  or 
two  from  the  excitement  of  the  Court  to  talk  to  me  about 
the  North.  He  was  residing  in  the  Palace  at  Potsdam, 
where  he  directed  me  to  call  at  noon  on  Monday. 

The  train  by  which  I  left  Berlin  was  filled  with  officers 
and  diplomatic  officials  in  full  uniform,  going  down  to  do 
homage  to  the  Czar.  In  the  carriage  in  which  I  sat,  were 
two  old  gentlemen  who  presently  commenced  conversing  iu 
French.  After  a  time,  their  talk  wandered  to  the  Orient, 
and  they  spoke  of  Diebitsch  and  his  campaigns,  and  the 
treaty  of  TJnkiar-Iskelessi.  Suddenly,  one  of  them  asked 
III  Arabic,  "  Do  you  speak  Arabic  ?"    The  other  answereor 


ALKTANDER    VON    HUMBOLDT.  361 

in  Turkish,  "  No,  but  I  speak  Turkish."  The  first  replied 
in  the  same  language,  which,  after  a  time,  the  two  exchang 
ed  for  Modern  Greek,  and  finally  subsided  into  Russian.  I 
made  out  that  one  was  a  Wallachian,  but  could  discover 
nothing  more,   notwithstanding  there   was  an    air    of   a 

ecret    mission   about    them,   which    greatly  piqued    my 

uriosity. 

Potsdam  was  all  alive  with  the  Imperial  arrival.  The 
King  of  Saxony  was  also  coming  to  dinner ;  and,  that  the 
three  monarchs  might  be  pleasantly  diverted  in  the  even- 
ing, the  sparkling  Marie  Taglioni,  who  had  arrived  with 
us,  tripped  out  of  the  cars  and  off  to  the  Royal  Theatre. 
The  park  at  Sans  Souci  was  in  brilliant  holiday  trim,  the 
walks  newly  swept,  and  the  foimtains  jetting  their  tallest 
jind  brightest  streams.  The  streets  of  the  dull  little  court- 
town  glittered  with  resplendent  uniforms,  among  which 
the  driver  of  my  carriage  pointed  out  Carl,  Albert,  and 
various  other  princes  of  the  House  of  Prussia.  As  we 
were  crossing  an  open  space  near  the  palace,  a  mounted 
guard,  followed  by  an  open  carriage,  drawn  by  a  span  of 
superb  black  horses,  suddenly  appeared.  I  at  once  recog- 
nised the  punchy  figure  in  a  green  military  coat,  buttoned 
up  to  the  chin,  who  sat  on  the  right  hand,  although  I  had 
never  before  seen  his  Majesty.  My  driver  reined  up  on 
one  side  and  took  off  his  hat.  I  lifted  mine  as  the  King 
passed,  looked  at  him,  and  he  replied  with  a  military  salute; 
Hi&  face  was  slightly  flushed  and  his  eyes  bright,  and  I 
remeinber  thinking  that  the  heavy  and  rather  stupid  air 
which  he  wears  in  his  portraits  did  him  injustice.  But  he 
was  even  then  laboring  under  that  congestion  which  struck 


862  AT  HOITB  AND   ABKOAD. 

him  down  the  same  night,  and  from  the  effects  of  which  h« 
will  never  recover. 

I  was  glad  when  the  clock  struck  twelve  at  last,  and  I 
could  leave  the  rattling  streets  for  that  quiet  comer  of  the 
palace  in  which  Humboldt  lives.  The  door  was  opened,  as 
before,  by  Seifert,  who  recognised  me  at  once.  "  Welcome 
back  I"  he  cried;  "we  know  where  you  have  been — we 
have  read  all  your  letters !  His  Excellency  has  been  quite 
sick,  and  you  will  not  find  him  so  strong  as  he  was  last 
year,  but  he  is  in  tolerable  health  again,  thank  God !  Come 
in,  come  in ;  he  is  waiting."  Opening  the  door  as  he  spoke, 
he  ushered  me  into  a  little  library,  on  the  threshold  of 
which  Humboldt,  who  had  risen,  received  me.  He  was 
slightly  paler  than  before,  a  little  thinner,  perhaps,  and  1 
could  see  that  his  step  was  not  so  firm ;  but  the  pale-blue 
eye  beamed  as  clear  an  intelligence  as  ever,  and  the  voice 
had  as  steady  and  cheery  a  tone.  He  shook  hands  with 
the  cordiality  of  a  friend,  and,  after  the  first  greetings  were 
over,  questioned  me  minutely  concerning  my  travels  in  the 
North. 

But  one  topic  soon  suggests  a  hundred  others,  and  he 
was  ere  long  roaming  at  large  over  the  whole  field  of  geo- 
graphy and  climatology,  touching  the  farthest  and  darkest 
regions  of  the  earth  with  the  light  of  his  stupendous 
knowledge.  The  sheets  of  the  new  volume  of  Cosmos  lay 
npon  the  table.  "  Here  is  what  I  have  been  doing,  since 
yon  were  here  before,"  said  he,  taking  it  up,  "  the  work 
will  be  published  in  two  or  three  weeks."  "You  find 
yourself,  then,  still  capable  of  such  labor  ?  "  I  ventured  to 
ask.     "  Work  v  now  a  part  of  my  life,"  said  he  j  **  I  sleep 


ALEXANDER   YON    HUMBOLDT.  SOU 

80  little,  and  much  rest  would  be  irksome.  Day  before  yes 
terday,  I  worked  for  sixteen  hours,  reviewing  these  sheets.'' 
"  Are  you  not  greatly  fatigued,"  I  asked,  "  after  sucb  an 
exertion  ?"  "  On  the  contrary,"  he  replied,  "  I  feel  re- 
freshed, but  the  performance  of  it  depends  greatly  on  my 
state  of  bodily  health.  I  am  unconscious  of  any  mental 
fatigue."  As  I  saw  in  the  face,  and  heard  in  the  voice  of 
the  splendid  old  man,  all  the  signs  of  a  sound,  unfailing  in- 
tellect, I  could  well  believe  it.  I  had  prided  myself  a  little 
on  having  worked  with  the  brain  fifteen  hours  a  day  for  six 
months,  yet  here  was  Humboldt,  in  his  eighty-ninth  year, 
capable  of  an  equal  exertion. 

The  manner  in  which  he  spoke  of  his  bodily  health  waa 
exceedingly  interesting  to  me.  His  mind,  full  of  vigor  and 
overflowing  with  active  life,  seemed  to  consider  the  body 
as  something  independent  of  itself,  and  to  watch,  with  a 
curious  eye,  its  gradual  decay,  as  he  might  have  watched 
that  of  a  tree  in  his  younger  days.  "  I  have  been  unwell 
through  the  Summer,"  said  he,  "  but  you  must  not  believe  all 
you  may  have  seen  in  the  newspapers  concerning  my  illness. 
They  stated  that  I  was  attacked  with  apoplexy,  but  it  w  as- 
only  a  vertigo,  which  soon  left  me,  and  has  not  been  fol 
lowed  by  any  of  the  usual  effects  of  apoplexy.  One  result, 
however,  shows  that  my  body  is  beginning  to  give  way.  J 
have  not  the  same  power  of  controUing  my  limbs  as  for- 
merly ;  the  will  does  not  seem  to  act  upon  the  muscles ; 
there  is  a  link  broken  somewhere,  which  it  is  probably  too 
late  to  restore.  For  instance,  very  often,  when  I  attempt 
to  walk  straight  forward,  I  do  not  feel  certain  that  my  legj 
will  carry  me  in  a  straight  line ;  they  may  go  either  to  <»• 


864  AX  aOM£  AND  ABBOAD. 

dde  or  the  other,  and,  though  I  caunot  notice  any  lea) 
what  of  strength,  I  fee'  uncertain  and  mistrustful.  For 
this  reason,  I  must  have  assistance  when  I  go  up  or  down 
stairs.  After  all,  it  is  not  singular  that  some  paits  of  the 
machinery  should  get  rusty  at  my  age."  Soon  afterwards, 
ivhile  speaking  of  Thibet,  he  referred  to  a  very  fine  copper- 
plate map,  and  I  noticed  that  he  saw  the  most  minute 
names  distinctly,  without  the  aid  of  spectacles.  But  then 
he  had  the  eyes  of  a  youth  of  twenty  years.  Age  might 
palsy  his  limbs,  but  it  never  looked  out  of  those  windows. 

After  I  had  been  sitting  an  hour,  Seifert  came  to  the 
door  and  said :  "  The  two  gentlemen  have  come — shall  I 
admit  them  ?*»  I  rose  to  leave,  but  Humboldt  said :  "  No, 
no— remain.  They  are  from  Hong-Kong:  perhaps  you 
know  them."  I  looked  at  the  cards,  and  recognised  an 
acquaintance  in  the  name  of  the  editor  of  a  Hong-Kong 
paper.  The  other  was  a  Government  official.  After  they 
entered,  the  conversation  took  a  more  general  tone,  but  I 
vas  not  sorry  for  this  afterwards,  as  it  gave  Humboldt  occa- 
sion to  recall  some  scenes  of  his  early  life.  One  of  the 
visitors  spoke  of  Frederick  the  Great.  "  I  remember  him 
well,"  said  Humboldt,  "  I  was  sixteen  years  old  when  he 
died,  and  I  can  see  his  face  still  as  plainly  as  I  can  see 
yours.  I  was  but  eighteen  when  I  visited  England  for  the 
first  time.  It  was  during  the  trial  of  Warren  Hastings, 
which  I  frequently  attended.  I  remember  that  I  heard 
Edmund  Burke,  Htt,  and  Sheridan  aU  speak  on  the  same 
night." 

After  the  visitors  left,  I  remained  with  him  until  it  was 
tiine  for  him  to  prepare  for  the  dinner  given  to  Alexandei 


ALEXANDKB   YOK    HUAIBOUXr.  865 

U.,  to  which  he  was  bidden.  "  You  will  pass  through 
Berlin  on  your  way  to  Moscow  ? "  said  he.  "  Yes.^ 
"Well — I  must  be  poHte  enough  to  live  until  then.  You 
must  bring  your  wife  with  you.  Oh,  I  know  all  about  it, 
and  you  must  not  think,  because  I  have  never  been  married 
myself,  that  I  do  not  congratulate  you."  After  these  cor- 
dial words,  and  a  clasp  of  the  hand,  in  which  there  woe 
nothing  weak  or  tremulous,  I  parted  from  the  immortai 
old  man. 


XXX. 

SFMMER  GOSSIP  FROM   ENGLAND. 

[1  85T.1 


As  it  was  necessary  that  I  should  visit  London  on  matten 
of  business,  before  proceeding  to  Norway,  I  took  the 
opportunity  of  accompanying  my  brother  and  sisters  as  fer 
as  Southampton,  on  their  voyage  home.  Leaving  Gotha 
on  the  9th  of  June,  we  went  by  rail  to  Bremen,  by  way  of 
Cassel  and  Hanover.  The  only  thing  in  the  former  city 
which  we  had  time  to  visit  was  the  celebrated  Hathskeller^ 
or  crypt  of  the  old  Hall  of  Council.  This  is  renowned 
through  all  Germany  for  its  tuns  of  Rhenish  wme,  of  the 
most  undoubted  antiquity.  They  are  kept  in  great  vaults, 
distinguished  by  different  titles.  That  of  the  "Twelve 
Apostles  "  has  been  immortalized  by  Hauff  and  Heine,  but 
the  apostolical  wines  are  not  so  fine  as  those  authors  would 
have  us  believe.  Each  cask  bears  the  name  of  one  of  the 
Apostles;  they  contain  wine  of  the  vintage  of  1718,  whict 


StJMMER  GOSSIP   FBOM  ENGLAND.  869 

has  now,  I  was  informed,  a  pungent  acid  flavor.  That  of 
Judas,  alone,  retains  a  pleasant  aroma,  and  the  sinner, 
therefore,  is  in  greater  demand  than  all  the  saints  together 
In  the  "  Rose  Cellar  "  are  enormous  casks,  yet  filled  with 
Hockheimer  (Hock)  of  the  vintage  of  1624.  For  a  couple 
of  centuiies  it  was  carefully  treasured,  but  the  City 
Fathers  of  Bremen  finally  discovered  that  the  longer  it 
was  kept  the  worse  it  grew,  and  now  sell  it  to  visitors, 
in  small  bottles,  at  a  moderate  price. 

We  sat  down  in  one  of  the  stalls  in  the  outer  cellar, 
and  had  a  bottle  uncorked.  Think  of  drinking  wine  which 
grew  when  the  Plymouth  Colony  was  but  four  years  old — 
of  the  same  vintage  which  Ariosto  might  have  drunk,  and 
Milton,  and  Cromwell,  and  Wallenstein,  and  Gustavus 
Adolphusl  Shakespeare  had  been  dead  but  eight  years 
when  the  grapes  were  trodden  in  the  vats ;  and  Ben 
Jonson  may  have  sung  his  "  Drink  to  me  only  with  thine 
eyes "  over  a  goblet  of  the  golden  juice.  We  filled  the 
glasses  with  great  solemnity  as  these  thoughts  passed 
through  our  minds — admired  its  dark,  smoky  color,  sniffed 
up  reverently  its  musky,  mummy-like  odor,  and  then  tasted 
Fancy  a  mixture  of  oil  and  vinegar,  flavored  with  a  smaD 
drop  of  kreosote  I  This,  as  I  afterwards  recognised,  wa« 
the  impression  made  upon  the  palate,  though  my  imagina 
tion  was  too  busy  at  the  time  to  be  aware  of  it.  We  aS 
said,  *'  It  is  not  so  bad  as  I  expected,"  and,  by  keeping  the 
fact  of  its  age  constantly  before  our  eyes,  succeeded  in 
emptying  tha  bottle.  So  pungent,  however,  was  the 
smoky,  oily,  acidulous  flavor,  that  it  affected  my  palate 
for  full  twenty-four  hours  afterwards,  and  everything  ] 


S68  AT  HOMB  AND   ABBOAD. 

ate  or  drank  in  that  time  seemed  to  be  of  tl  e  vintage  oi 
1624. 

I  reached  London  in  season  to  hear  the  last  of  Handel'fi 
oratorios — Israel  in  Egypt — ^in  the  Palace  at  Sydenham 
I  doubt  whether  any  composer,  dead  or  alive,  has  ever  had 
4uch  an  ovation.  Two  thousand  singers  and  nearly  three 
hundred  instrumental  performers  interpreted  his  choruses 
to  an  audience  of  more  than  seventeen  thousand  persons. 
The  coup  cToeil  alone  was  sublimer  than  any  picture.  The 
vast  amphitheatre  of  singers,  filling  up  the  whole  breadth 
of  the  western  transept,  stretched  off  into  space,  and  the 
simultaneous  turning  of  the  leaves  of  their  music  books 
was  like  the  appearance  of  "  an  army  with  banners,"  or 
the  rustling  of  the  wind  in  a  mountain  forest.  We  were 
so  late  that  we  could  only  cling  to  the  outskirts  of  the 
multitude  below,  and  I  was  fearful  that  we  should  not  be 
able  to  hear  distinctly — but  I  might  as  well  have  feared 
not  hearing  the  thunder  in  a  cloud  over  my  head.  Not 
only  was  the  quarter  of  a  mile  of  palace  completely  filled 
with  the  waves  of  the  chorus,  in  every  part,  but  they  spread 
beyond  it,  and  flowed  audibly  over  the  hills  for  a  mile 
around.  I  kept  my  eye  on  the  leader,  Da  Costa,  whose 
single  arm  controlled  the  whirlwind.  He  lifted  it,  like 
Moses,  and  the  plagues  fell  upon  Egypt ;  he  waved  it,  and 
the  hailstones  smote,  crashing  upon  the  higliways  and  the 
temple-roofs ;  he  stretched  it  forth,  and  the  Red  Sea  wavei 
parted,  and  closed  again  on  the  chariots  of  l*haraoh.  He 
was  lord  of  the  tuneful  hosts  that  day,  and  Handel  him- 
self, as  he  wrote  the  scores  of  the  immortal  work,  coidd 
not  have  more  perfectly  incarnated  its  harmonies.    Follow 


SUMMEB  GOSSIP  FBOM  ENGLAND.  8(tl 

mg  him,  I  trod  in  the  thunder-marches  of  the  two-fold 
chorus,  and  stood  in  the  central  calm  of  the  stormy  whirls 
of  sound. 

There  is  no  doubt  that,  with  the  masses  of  the  English 
ieople,  Handel  is  the  most  popular  composer.  The  opera 
8  still  an  exotic,  not  yet  naturalized  to  their  tastes ;  but 
Sandel,  with  his  seriousness,  his  cheerfulness,  his  earnest- 
ness, his  serene  self-reliance,  and  undaunted  daring,  speaks 
directly  to  the  English  heart.  His  very  graces  have  the 
simple  quaintness  of  the  songs  of  Shakespeare,  or  those 
touches  of  tender  fancy  which  glimmer  like  spots  of  sun- 
shine through  the  cathedral  gloom  of  Milton.  The  effect 
of  the  grand  performance,  however,  was  frequently  marred 
by  the  sharp,  dry  sound  of  senseless  clappings,  demanding 
an  encore,  which  Da  Costa  sensibly  refused  whenever  it 
was  possible.  We  who  stood  in  the  edges  of  the  crowd 
were  also  greatly  annoyed  by  the  creaking  boots  of  snobs 
who  went  idly  walking  up  and  down  the  aisles,  and  the 
chatter  of  the  feminine  fools,  who  came  only  to  be  heard 
and  seen.  In  New  York  one  might  have  the  same  annoy- 
ance, but  by  no  possibility  could  it  happen  in  Germany. 

Don  Giovanni  was  having  a  great  run  in  both  Italian 
Operas,  Grisi  and  Piccolommi  being  rivals  in  the  part  of 
Donna  Anna.  I  heard  the  former,  and  wondered  at  the 
consummate  skill  with  which  she  managed  a  failing  voice. 
Bosio  was  the  Zerlina,  but,  though  sweet  and  graceful  as 
bver,  she  seemed  to  have  lost  something  since  she  was  in 
New  York,  five  or  six  years  before.  Herr  Formes,  as 
IJeporello,  was  admirable,  and  Cerito  appeared  in  the  ballet 
Boene  with  all  her  former  grace  and  beauty ;  but  the  Italian 


370  ▲T  HOMB  Ain>  ABBOAD. 

Opera  in  London  is  not  now  what  it  was  in  Lumley'a  palmj 
days.  Entertainments  by  individuals — single-string  per- 
formers playing  on  "  a  harp  of  a  thousand  strings  " — are 
now  very  popular.  The  success  of  Albert  Smith  and  Gor- 
don Gumming  has  led  the  way  to  a  number  of  solo  per- 
lormances,  nearly  all  of  which  are  very  well  attended.  Mr. 
Drayton  (an  American,  I  believe)  gives  what  he  calls  "  Il- 
lustrated Proverbs;'*  Miss  P.  Horton  exhibits  something 
of  the  same  kind ;  Mr.  Woodin  pours  forth  an  "  Olio  of 
Oddities ;"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wilton  announce  their  "  Evenings 
with  the  American  Poets,"  etc.  All  the  world  crowds  on 
a  Sunday  to  hear  the  Rev.  Mr.  Spurgeon,  who  preaches  in 
the  Surrey  Musical  Hall.  He  is,  in  manner,  of  the  Beecher 
school,  but  with  less  ability,  and  impresses  principally  by 
his  earnestness  and  the  direct,  practical  nature  of  his  ser- 
mons. People  seem  to  be  agreed  that  he  is  a  sincere  man, 
though  his  face,  as  it  appears  in  the  shop-windows,  is  any- 
thing but  an  agreeable  one  to  look  upon — being  roimd  and 
full,  with  round  eyes,  flat,  flabby  cheeks,  a  pug  nose,  and 
short  hps,  gaping  apart  to  exhibit  some  very  prominent 
front  toeth. 

At  a  dinner-party  one  day  I  met  with  Layard,  and  King- 
lake,  the  author  of  "  Eothen."  The  latter  is  a  small,  pale 
man,  with  blond  hair  and  moustache,  and  bluish-gray  eyes. 
His  maimer  is  quiet  and  subdued,  and  only  a  few  would 
guess  his  concealed  capacity  for  enthusiastic  feeling  and 
courageous  action.  He  had  just  entered  Parliament,  and 
broke  down  shortly  afterwards,  in  his  first  speech — but  it 
was  a  failure  which  only  stimulated  his  friends  to  believe 
the  more  firmly  in  his  future  success.    He  is  now  writing  a 


SUMMER   GOSSIP   FROM   ENGLAND.  8Y1 

History  of  the  Crimean  War,  all  of  which  he  saw,  sharing 
its  dangers  with  the  same  steady  nerve  which  he  opposed 
to  the  infection  of  the  plague  in  Cairo.  Layard  is  a  man 
of  forty,  with  a  frank,  open,  energetic  face,  clear  gray  eyes, 
and  hair  prematurely  gray  about  the  temples.  He  had 
just  astonished  the  artistic  world  by  some  very  remarkable 
researches  which  he  had  been  making  in  Italy  during  the 
past  two  years.  Taking  Vasari  as  his  guide,  he  set  off 
upon  the  hunt  of  the  lost  frescoes  of  Giotto  and  other 
painters  of  the  Pre-Raphaelite  period,  and  brought  back 
seven  hundred  tracings  of  works,  the  existence  of  which 
had  been  hithei-to  unknown. 

I  heard  Dickens  read  his  "  Christmas  Carol "  in  St.  Mar- 
tin's Hall,  to  an  audience  so  crowded  and  enthusiastic  as  to 
surprise  the  London  reporters,  though  its  equal  in  both 
these  respects  is  a  very  common  sight  in  America,  Hia 
reading  of  the  dialogue  was  wonderfully  fine,  although  in 
the  narrative  parts  it  had  a  smack  of  the  stage,  and  a  ten- 
dency to  shrillness  at  the  end  of  every  phrase,  which  had 
a  curious  effect.  Dickens  is  now  in  his  forty-fifth  year,  and 
Time  is  beginning  to  teU  upon  his  exuberant  locks,  but  hia 
eye  has  all  its  old  keenness  and  sparkle.  "  Little  Dorrit," 
though  acknowledged  on  all  sides  to  be  a  great  falling  off 
from  his  previous  stories,  has  had  a  more  extensive  sale 
than  anything  he  has  written — which  proves  the  truth  of  a 
saying  of  old  Sam.  Rogers — that  there  is  only  one  thing 
harder  for  a  man  to  do  than  to  write  himself  down,  and 
that  is,  to  write  himself  up. 

Thackeray,  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all,  was  falsifying 
the  charges  of  the  rampantly  lojral  Canadian  papers,  bj 


372  AT   HOME   AND   ABKOAD. 

giving  his  lectures  on  the  Four  Georges  in  all  parts  of  tne 
United  Kingdom,  and  with  the  most  gratifying  success.  It 
is  cheering  to  see  a  man  of  his  independence  and  honesty 
rewarded  by  such  a  sound  and  steady  increase  of  popular 
espect  and  appreciation. 

I  spent  two  fortunate  days  at  Freshwater,  on  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  the  residence  of  Tennyson.  In  the  scenery  round 
about  the  poet's  residence,  I  recognised  many  lines  of 
"  Maud."  He  lives  in  a  charming  spot,  looking  out  on  one 
aide  over  the  edges  of  the  chalk  cli£&,  to 

**  the  liquid  tuzure  bloom  of  a  crescent  of  sea, 
The  tdlent  sapphire-spangled  marriage-rinf(  of  the  land," 

and  on  the  other,  across  the  blue  channel  of  the  Solent,  to 
the  far-off  wavy  line  of  the  New  Forest,  on  the  northern 
horizon.  Never  shall  I  forget  those  golden  hours  spent 
with  the  noble  poet  and  noble  man,  on  the  rolling  windy 
downs  above  the  sea,  and  under  the  shade  of  his  own  ilex 
and  elm! 

Buchanan  Read,  who  had  just  come  from  Rome  to  fulfil 
some  painter's  engagements,  took  me  one  evening  to  visit 
Leigh  Hunt — ^the  sole  surviving  star  of  that  constellation 
which  dawned  upon  the  literature  of  England  with  the 
present  century.  The  old  poet  lives  in  a  neat  little  cottage 
in  Hammersmith,  quite  alone,  since  the  recent  death  of  his 
wife.  That  dainty  grace,  which  is  the  chief  charm  of  his 
poetry,  yet  lives  in  his  person  and  manners.  He  is  seveiity- 
three  years  old,  but  the  effects  of  age  are  only  physical: 
ihey  have  not  touched  that  buoyant,  joyous  nature,  which 
Burvives  in  spite  of  sorrow  and  misfortune.    His  deep-Mt 


SUMMER   GOSSIP   FROM   ENGLAHD.  873 

eyes  still  beam  with  a  soft,  cheerful,  earnest  light;  his  voice 
is  gentle  and  musical,  and  his  hair,  although  almost  silver- 
white,  falls  in  fine,  sDky  locks  on  both  sides  of  his  face. 
It  was  grateful  to  me  to  press  the  same  palm  which  Keats 
and  Shelley  had  so  often  clasped  in  friendly  warmth,  and  to 
near  him,  who  knew  them  so  well,  speak  of  them  as  long- 
lost  companions.  He  has  a  curious  collection  of  locks  of 
the  hair  of  poets,  from  Milton  to  Browning.  That  thin 
tuft  of  brown,  silky  fibres,  could  it  really  have  been  shorn 
from  Milton's  head  ?  I  asked  myself.  "  Touch  it,"  said 
Leigh  Hunt,  "and  then  you  will  have  touched  Milton's 
self.'*  "  There  is  a  love  in  hair,  though  it  be  dead,"  said  I, 
as  I  did  so,  repeating  a  line  from  Hunt's  own  sonnet  on 
this  lock.  Shelley's  hair  was  golden  and  very  soft ;  Keats's 
a  blight  brown,  curling  in  large  Bacchic  rings ;  Dr. 
Johnson's  gray,  with  a  harsh  and  wiry  feel ;  Dean  Swift's 
both  brown  and  gray,  but  finer,  denoting  a  more  sensitive 
organization  ;  and  Charles  Lamb's  reddish  brown,  short  and 
strong.  I  was  delighted  to  hear  Hunt  speak  of  poems 
which  he  still  designed  to  write,  as  if  the  age  of  verse 
ghould  never  cease  with  one  in  whom  the  faculty  is  bom, 


XXXI. 

THE   CASTLES  OF   THE   CxLEICHEN. 

rSEPTEMBKB,   1858.] 


No  part  of  Germany  is  so  rich,  either  ia  romantio  legend* 
or  in  picturesque  historical  associations,  as  that  portion  ol 
ancient  Thftringia  which  is  now  parcelled  into  the  Duchies 
of  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  Saxe-Weimar,  and  Memingen.  The 
range  of  mountains,  called  the  Thtiringerwald  (Thtlringian 
Forest),  the  Wartburg  with  its  memories  of  Luther  and  the 
Minnesingers,  and  the  beautiful  valleys  of  the  Saale  and  the 
11m,  have  become  not  only  storied,  but  classic  ground ;  yet, 
I  venture  to  say,  not  more  than  one  out  of  every  hundred 
of  the  American  travellers  who  visit  Germany  ever  see  more 
of  this  region  than  may  be  caught  from  the  window  of  a 
rwlway  carriage,  bound  from  Frankfurt  to  Leipzig,  To 
me,  many  of  those  spots  are  almost  as  familiar  ao  the 
place  of  my  nativity ;  and  for  that  very  reason,  perhaps. 


THB   CASTLES    OF   THE   GI.EICHEN.  895 

I  have  passed  them  by  unnoticed  in  former  narratives  of 
travel. 

Eastward  from  Gotha,  and  about  one-third  of  the  distance 
between  that  city  and  Erfurt,  three  isolated  peaks  rise  from 
the  plala  at  the  northern  foot  of  the  Thth-ingian  Mountains 
Each  is  crowned  with  a  castle  of  the  Middle  Ages ;  and 
the  three,  collectively,  are  known  far  and  wide  as  die  drei 
Gleichen  (The  Three  Similars),  on  account  of  the  resemblance 
m  their  position  and  general  appearance.  I  had  seen  these 
peaks  almost  daily  during  several  months  of  residence  in 
Gotha,  at  different  intervals — from  the  breezy  top  of  the 
Seeberg,  from  the  balcony  over  the  beer-flowing  streams 
of  the  Walkmtlhle,  and  from  every  swell  in  the  undulating 
landscape  stretching  away  to  the  mountains.  Sometimes 
the  gray  wall  of  the  most  northern  of  the  three  castles,  rising 
over  a  conical  pile  of  foliage,  gleamed  like  gold  in  the 
setting  sun,  seeming  to  advance  nearer  and  nearer  as  the 
day  declined ;  and  again,  in  the  blue  vapors  of  an  autumn 
noon,  it  would  recede  far  into  the  distance,  as  if  passing  into 
the  sphere  of  another  landscape  beyond.  So  picturesque 
and  suggestive  were  these  objects,  that  I  was  satisfied  to 
view  them  thus  afar  off,  and  felt  even  reluctant  to  destroy 
the  fascinating  uncertainty  in  which  they  lay  by  a  nearer 
approach. 

One  day  in  September,  however,  the  charm  was  broken 
—or,  as  it  proved  in  the  end,  intensified.  The  sunny 
sweetness  and  repose  of  early  autumn  proved  too  tempting. 
We  felt  an  intense  desire  to  explore  some  unknown  region ; 
and  as  every  other  point  witlmi  the  range  of  our  vision  was 
exhausted,  nothing  was  left  but  the  Gleichen,    Our  partj^ 


876  AT  UOMB   AXD   ABBOAD. 

ooiisisted  of  four — Russian,  German,  and  American — 
mutually  resolved  to  devote  the  day  to  pleasure,  or  to  that 
something  still  better,  which  is  partly  expressed  by  the 
Italian,  dolce  far  niente,  and  wholly  by  the  Ai'abic  ke^^ 
but  for  which  our  impetuous  Anglo-Saxon  blood  has  neither 
name  nor  idea.  I  had  learned  the  thing  itself  in  the  Orient, 
and  my  companions  were  all  apt  apprentices,  at  least.  The 
day  was  just  fitted  for  such  an  indulgence  (very  few  days 
in  our  climate  will  answer),  and  under  the  seats  in  our  easy 
open  caldche  were  stowed  a  variety  of  necessary  appliances 
— black  bread,  ham,  herrings,  Rhenish  wine,  pipes,  and  the 
like.  Only  in  such  style  can  you  truly  taste  the  flavor  of 
the  Past. 

Leaving  the  Seeberg  on  our  left,  we  dipped  down  into 
a  warm,  rich  hollow  in  the  plain,  in  which  stands  the 
flourishing  village  of  Wechniar.  It  had  been  devastated 
by  fire  a  few  days  before,  but  the  grape-vines  still  hugged 
the  blackened  fronts  of  the  cottages,  with  their  leaves 
scorched  to  ashes  and  their  blue  clusters  dried  uito  raisins. 
An  hour's  drive  over  the  plain  beyond  brought  us  to  two 
of  the  Gleichen,  which  take  their  names  from  the  villages 
of  Wandersleben  and  Mflhlberg,  nestled  at  their  respective 
bases.  The  peaks,  which  rise  to  the  height  of  five  or  six 
hundred  feet,  are  planted  at  the  entrance  of  a  valley  about 
half  a  mile  broad,  through  which  wanders  a  bright  little 
stream.  To  the  south-east,  three  or  four  miles  distant,  rises 
the  third,  or  Wachsenburg  Gleichen,  on  a  loftier,  but  less 
abrupt  and  picturesque  eminence. 

Ijeaving  our  carriage  at  the  foot  of  the  Wandersleben 
Gleichen,  we  ascended  by  a  spiral  road,  shaded  with  thicketi 


rHJB  CASTLES    OF   THE   QLEICHBN.  8Y9 

of  hazel  and  wild  plum.  The  top  of  the  hill  is  encircled  hj 
a  moat,  beyond  which  rise  the  old  walls  of  inclosure.  A 
massive  portal  on  the  northern  side  conducts  to  a  spacioui 
courtyard,  now  overgrown  with  turf,  and  shaded  by  the 
ruins  of  three  different  ages.  The  silence  was  undisturbed, 
6ave  by  the  chirping  of  a  few  autumnal  birds,  and  the  rustle 
of  a  fox,  which  darted  among  the  stones  of  a  fallen  wall,  as 
we  appeared.  We  chose  the  grassy  foundation  of  an  old 
bastion,  op  the  sunny  side  of  the  hill,  and  inhaled  the  beauty 
of  the  landscape  while  Sebastian  tottered  up  the  winding 
path,  with  our  baskets  on  his  arms.  The  dismantled  towers 
of  the  Mtlhlberg  Castle  smiled  grimly  across  the  valley, 
saying  to  Wandersleben :  "We  are  old,  and  ruined,  and 
neglected,  brother,  but  we  still  stand."  Wachsenburg 
seemed  to  float  in  the  thin  vapors  of  the  morning — the  whole 
line  of  the  Thftringian  Mountains  filled  the  southern  horizon, 
and  the  spires  of  Gotha  in  the  west,  and  Erfurt  in  the  east, 
marked  the  boundaries  of  th  e  view.  The  indolent  enj  oyment 
of  an  hour's  loimge  on  such  a  spot  and  at  such  a  time, 
belongs  exclusively  to  a  land  where  indolence  is  permitted. 
The  peasants,  looking  iip  at  us  from  their  turnip-fields,  did 
not  say  or  think :  "  What  worthless  loafers !"  as  many  an 
American  farmer  would  have  done,  but  rather:  "How 
pleasant  it  must  be  up  there,  this  morning !  How  fortunate 
they  are !'' 

Full  before  us,  basking  warm  in  the  sunshine,  wbs  the 
estate  of  Field-Marshal  von  Mtiffling,  the  old  campaigner 
of  1813  and  1815.  "There,"  said  one  of  my  friends,  "I 
spent  three  years  of  my  life,  in  charge  of  the  old  general's 
estate ;  and  many  an  hour  have  I  stolen  away  to  climb  thir 


878  AT  HOMS  AND  ABROAD. 

hill  and  sit  where  we  sit  now.  The  western  front  of  the 
castle  was  then  almost  in  a  habitable  condition ;  the  roof 
was  still  standing,  and  the  floors  resting  on  heavy  beams  ot 
wood,  were  entire.  But,  as  the  place  was  not  visited  foi 
weeks  together,  so  many  beams  were  sawed  out  and  carried 
.■<ff  by  night,  that  the  roof  finally  fell  in,  and  the  general 
was  obliged  to  sell  the  remainder  of  the  timber,  in  order  to 
prevent  it  from  being  plundered.  Superb  timber  it  was, 
after  a  seasoning  of  two  hundred  years  I  Yonder,  where  the 
old  chambers  were,  I  experienced,  one  night,  the  greatest 
terror  I  ever  felt  in  my  life." 

"Oh,  a  ghost  story!"  we  exclaimed,  and  our  hair  rose 
in  delightful  anticipation.  For  my  part,  knowing  my 
friend  to  be  as  courageous  as  a  grizzly  bear,  I  was  curious 
to  hear  by  what  means  he  could  have  been  made  to  feel 
fear.  "  It  was  when  I  was  living  with  the  general,"  said 
he.  "  The  jail  at  Gotha  was  broken  one  winter,  and  four 
or  five  prisoners  made  their  escape.  The  whole  country 
was  aroused,  of  course ;  they  were  sharply  followed,  and 
finally  all  were  caught  with  the  exception  of  one,  the  most 
desperate  felon  of  them  all.  For  weeks  nothing  was  heard 
of  him :  but  at  last,  through  a  Jew  in  Erfurt,  it  was  dis- 
covered that  he  was  hiding  among  these  ruins.  The  gene- 
ral was  apprised  of  the  fact  by  the  officers  who  came  to 
take  him,  and  who  called  to  obtain  aid.  One  of  the  shep- 
herds attached  to  the  estate,  and  myself,  were  detailed  on 
this  duty — not  a  pleasant  one,  I  confess.  The  officers, 
however,  determined  to  wait  until  late  at  night,  when  they 
woidd  be  more  sure  to  find  the  fox  in  his  hole. 

"  It  was  near  midnight  when  we  s^^arted.     I  was  armed 


THE   CASTLES    Oi    THE   GLEICHEN.  8W 

tnth  a  sword — and  the  shepherd,  who  c^'ried  the  lantern, 
with  an  old  musket.  On  reaching  the  base  of  the  hill  the 
two  officers  posted  their  men  so  as  to  forfn  a  cordon  around 
It,  and  we  fouj-  then  ascended  to  the  castle.  It  was  very 
dark,  and  the  wind  howled  through  the  broken  arches  and 
windows.  We  first  entered  the  vaults,  groping  cautiously 
around,  and  throwing  the  light  of  the  lantern  as  far  ahead 
as  possible.  Finding  nothing,  after  a  cautious  search,  we 
explored  the  upper  chambers,  one  after  another,  and  finally 
came  to  the  western  wing,  where  we  were  sure  the  robber 
must  be  hidden.  The  officers  posted  themselves  at  the  two 
doors,  while  I  entered,  followed  by  the  shepherd,  whose 
terror  increased  with  every  minute.  After  examining  the 
first  floor,  nothing  was  left  for  us  but  a  lai'ge  room  above. 
The  staircase  had  been  pulled  down,  but  a  rough  ladder 
supplied  its  place.  Here  the  shepherd  stopped,  overcome 
with  fear.  Taking  his  lantern  in  one  hand  and  my  sword 
in  the  other,  I  directed  him  to  wait  at  the  foot  of  the 
ladder,  and  commenced  mounting  the  rounds.  I  own  I 
was  excited  and  nervous,  imagining  that  the  felon  might 
be  standing  over  the  opening,  with  a  club  raised  to  crack 
my  skull  the  moment  it  should  be  within  his  reach. 

"  Full  of  this  idea,  I  raised  my  head  to  take  a  cautious 
survey.  Suddenly  there  was  a  quick,  rustling  sound — a 
loud,  shiill  cry,  and  the  lantern  was  instantly  dashed  from 
my  hand,  and  shattered  upon  the  floor  below.  I  followed 
it  at  a  single  leap,  still  holding  my  sword.  The  scream 
was  echoed  by  one  of  terror  from  the  shepherd,  who,  in 
his  excitement,  pulled  the  trigger  of  his  musket,  firing  he 
knew  not  where.     The  officers   stumbled   in  at  opposite 


880  AT   UOME  AND   ABBOAD. 

doors,  in  the  dark.  'Where,  where  is  he?'  they  cried 
'Light!  light!'  I  demanded,  and  'there!  there!'  yelleo 
the  shepherd,  startled  by  a  thumping  sound  at  one  of  the 
windows.  Bang  went  another  gun,  and  the  flash  showed 
OS  a  large  bird  of  prey,  flapping  against  the  bars  in  hui 
endeavor  to  escape.  We  were  sufficiently  vexed  and  mor- 
tifiad,  but  our  courage  was  completely  restored.  Our 
search,  however,  was  all  in  vain,  and  we  would  willingly 
nave  avoided  our  outposts,  who,  hearing  the  shots,  rushed 
ip  the  hill  to  help  us  secure  the  captive." 

"  And  was  the  man  ever  caught  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  two  months  afterwards.  And  what  think  you  ? 
The  rascal  was  all  the  time  hidden  in  the  main  vault,  but 
so  skilfully  crammed  into  a  hollow  below  two  large  stones, 
that  we  had  actually  walked  over  and  around  him  a  dozen 
times.  Of  course,  he  was  remanded  for  several  additional 
years — ^but  the  fellow  had  his  revenge.  He  made  a  confi 
dential  declaration  to  the  court,  that  there  was  a  chest  ful. 
of  ancient  armor  and  other  curious  articles  in  that  very 
vault,  and  asked  to  be  paid  something  for  the  discovery 
The  story  soon  got  abroad,  and  thereupon  arose  a  pretty 
dispute  for  the  possession  of  the  chest,  between  the  Prus- 
sian Government,  the  Duchy,  and  the  old  Field-Marshal. 
Heaven  knows  how  long  the  difficulty  would  have  con- 
tinued, had  not  the  general  taken  advantage  of  his  right  of 
possession  to  search  for  the  chest.  But  he  didn't  find  it! 
There  never  had  been  any  chest  there;  and  the  whole 
thing  was  a  cunning  lie,  which  kept  the  scamp  supplied 
with  his  own  piivate  fun,  for  a  year  at  least." 

In  wandering  through  the  tumbling  halls,  that  rare  siorj 


TELE  CASTLES  OF  THIS  GrLEICHEIf.  881 

of  love  and  liberality,  of  which  they  were  once  the  scene, 
was  constantly  before  my  mind.  Most  of  my  readers  have 
doubtless  heard  it — ^heard  and  disbelieved,  yet  it  is  histori- 
cally true;  and  here,  on  the  Wandersleben  Gleichen,  its 
beautiful  conclusion  occurred.  Let  me  tell  it,  as  it  actu- 
Uy  took  place. 

Among  the  princes  who  followed  Louis  IX.  of  France  on 
his  disastrous  crusade  in  the  Orient,  was  Ludwig,  Land- 
grave of  Thtiringia,  at  the  head  of  a  small  but  zealous  band 
of  noblemen  and  their  retainers.  Prominent  in  his  com- 
pany was  Otto,  Count  of  Gleichen,  who  left  a  young  and 
lovely  wife,  to  say  prayers  for  him  during  his  absence. 
Whether  he  locked  her  up  in  one  of  those  guarded  cham- 
bers, wherewith  the  knights  of  that  day  imprisoned  their 
"Palestine  widows,"  is  not  recorded.  Let  us  hope  not. 
Ludwig  died  somewhere  on  the  shores  of  the  Adriatic,  but 
a  few  of  his  followers,  among  whom  was  the  Count  of 
Gleichen,  pushed  on,  joined  St  Louis,  and  in  the  course  of 
time  crossed  lances  with  the  Saracens  at  Rosetta. 

The  Count  was  a  passionate  hunter,  and  it  happened  one 
day  that,  as  he  was  chasing  gazelles,  attended  only  by  his 
faithful  servant,  Kurt,  he  was  suddenly  surrounded  by  a 
band  of  Saracens  and  made  prisoner.  The  two  were 
carried  off  to  Cairo,  where  the  Count  was  thrown  into  a 
dungeon,  while  Kurt  was  employed  as  a  slave  in  the  Go- 
vernor's gardens.  The  latter,  who  seems  to  have  been  a 
keen-witted  knave,  soon  acquired  the  Arabic  language,  and 
80  ingratiated  himself  into  the  favor  of  the  head-gardener, 
that  he  persuaded  him  to  apply  for  the  services  of  the 
Count,  whose  skill  in  gardening  he  extolled  greatly.    Bemg 


382  AT    HOME   AND   AiJBOAD. 

thus  freed  from  his  dungeon,  Count  Otto  found  his  captivity 
much  more  endurable ;  and,  with  Kurt's  assistance,  man- 
aged to  keep  up  his  reputation  as  a  gardener,  though  he 
probably  knew  nothing  more  about  it  than  to  distinguish 
between  roses  and  cabbages.  Thus  years  passed  away, 
and  the  chances  of  their  release  from  this  bondage  seemed 
more  hopeless  than  ever,  when  a  wonderful  providence  at 
last  opened  a  way  for  them. 

By  this  time  the  governor's  daughter  had  reached  the 
age  of  womanhood.  Fond  of  flowers,  as  all  the  Orientals 
are,  she  was  naturally  interested  in  the  curiosities  of  gar- 
dening (very  remarkable  they  were,  no  doubt !)  produced 
by  the  combined  art  of  the  count  and  Kurt.  Finally,  she 
became  interested,  also,  in  the  gardener.  To  make  a  long 
story  short,  she  pitied  first,  then  loved  him ;  while  he,  in 
return,  loved  her  for  her  pity.  She  proposed  that  he  should 
become  a  Mussulman;  but  this  he  steadfastly  refused. 
After  all  other  plans  seemed  vain,  she  finally  proved  the 
sincerity  of  her  love  by  professing  her  willingness  to  escape 
with  him  and  become  a  Christian.  The  Count  (an  honora- 
ble man,  be  it  acknowledged)  then  explained  that  he  was 
aireudy  married.  But  this  was  no  impediment  in  the  eyes 
(  f  the  fair  Melek-e'-Saleh ;  and  at  length,  overcome  by  his 
desite  for  freedom,  he  accepted  her  proposal.  The  three 
escaped  by  night  into  the  house  of  a  Jewish  physician,  in 
the  cellar  of  which  they  lay  concealed  for  two  or  three 
months.  When  the  terrible  commotion  consequent  on  their 
flight  had  subsided,  they  were  each  packed  into  the  middle 
of  a  bale  of  dried  herbs,  and  sent  as  freight  to  Alexandria. 
What  will  not  love  endure  ?     Embalmed  for  a  wwk  in  cat- 


THE  CASTLBS    OF   ULE   GLEICHEN.  388 

nip  and  wormwood,  it  comes  out  breathing  as  deeply  of 
roses  as  before ! 

The  Jewish  pliysician  and  the  Venetian  merchants  at 
Alexandria  were  rewarded  with  some  of  Melek-e'-Saleh'g 
diamonds,  and  proved  faithful.  The  bales  were  immedi- 
ately shipped  for  Venice,  and  the  odoriferous  captives 
hberated  at  sea.  Fortune  favored  them,  and  the  voyage, 
to  Venice  was  accomplished  without  accident.  But  what 
of  the  Countess  GertriiJis  ?  She,  with  a  faith  and  pa- 
tience unequalled  since,  save  by  Lady  Franklin,  waited  for 
the  return  of  her  lost  lord.  When  the  few  survivors  of 
the  Crusade  made  their  way  back,  bringing  no  tidings  of 
him,  she  neveitheless  was  not  discouraged.  When  the 
messenger  whom  she  had  sent  to  the  Mediterranean 
leturned  with  a  rumor  of  the  coimt's  death,  she  asked, 
"  Did  you  see  his  dead  body  ? »'  "  No."  "  Did  you  see 
any  one  who  had  seen  it  ?  "  "  No."  "  Then  go  back 
again  I "  Finally,  the  messenger  hired  permanent  lodgings 
in  Venice,  not  daring  to  return  until  something  positive 
should  turn  up.  He  waited  several  years  in  vain.  But  one 
fine  morning  his  persistence  was  rewarded :  the  Count, 
with  Kurt  and  the  soldan's  daughter,  walked  up  the  steps 
of  the  quay. 

Good  Catholic  as  he  was,  the  Count  proceeded  first  to 
Rome,  in  order  that  Melek-e'-Saleh  might  be  received  into 
the  Christian  Church.  The  wonderful  story  created  a 
great  sensation  in  the  holy  city,  where  the  pope  (one  of 
the  Gregories)  baptized  the  fair  Saracen  under  the  name 
of  Angelica.  The  Count  then  applied  for  a  special  dispen- 
sation to  marry  her,  on  account  of  the  sacrifices  she  had 


884  AT  HOMJB;  A2^D  abaoad. 

made  tor  his  sake.  The  matter  was  considered  so  import 
ant,  that  a  council  of  cardinals  was  called  together;  but 
the  slony-hearted  celibates,  whose  ventricles  pumped  sand 
instead  of  blood,  refused  the  prayer.  Thereupon  Ange- 
lica threw  herself  at  the  pope's  feet,  and  so  warmed  them 
with  her  tears  and  the  sunshine  of  her  beauty,  that  one 
drop  of  thawed  blood  finally  crept  up  to  his  heart,  and  he 
declared  that  the  Count  of  Gleichen,  alone,  of  all  Catholic 
Christians,  then,  and  for  ever  afterwards  to  be  born,  should 
be  allowed  two  wives.  The  espousals  were  celebrated  at 
once,  and  the  happy  pair  set  out  for  the  Castle  of  Gleichen. 
But  one  chapter  of  the  story  remains.  The  Countess 
Gertrudis  had  received  regular  dispatches  from  her  agent, 
informing  her  of  all  that  had  taken  place.  What  tears  and 
struggles  the  news  cost  her,  that  noble  woman  never  told. 
She  took  counsel  of  her  heart,  and,  having  once  chosen  her 
course,  kept  it  unflinchingly.  At  last,  on  such  an  autumn 
day  as  we  enjoyed,  the  Count  approached  his  castle.  He 
was  full  of  doubt  and  trouble,  for  he  knew  not  that  his 
wife  had  heard  from  him.  Leaving  Angelica  and  all  his 
cortege  in  the  valley  beyond  the  Mfthlberg  hill,  he  rode  on 
alone  towards  Wandersleben.  What  was  his  surprise  when, 
on  turning  the  corner  of  the  Mflhlberg,  and  seeing  the 
towers  of  his  home  rise  before  him,  his  banner  was  un- 
furled from  the  highest  turret,  and  joyous  peals  of  horns 
and  trumpets  rang  across  the  valley!  Down  the  hill  rode 
Gertrudis,  on  her  white  palfrey,  clad  in  her  bravest  appa- 
rel, and  the  glittering  ranks  of  his  retainers  followed 
behind.  Let  me  not  violate  the  sanctity  of  that  meeting 
by  attempting  to  describe  it.    An  hour  afterwards  Ger 


TILB   CASTLBS   OF   TKB   OLBICHEK.  Sh5 

tmdis  and  Angelica  met,  at  the  eastern  base  of  the  hill — 
a  spot  which  is  called  Freudenthcd  (the  Joy- Valley)  to  this 
day.     The  Saxon  lady's  crown  of  golden-blonde  pressed 

he  night-black  locks  of  the  Saracen  girl,  as  she  said  to  her 
(with  holy  tears,  we  are  sure),  "Welcome,  Angelica!  you 

hall  be  to  me  a  sister,  as  you  are  a  wife  to  him." 

ITie  chronicle  assures  us  that  the  trio  passed  their  lives 
together  in  unalloyed  peace  and  happiness.  One  account 
says  that  Angelica  was  childless,  while  Gei'trudis  bore  five 
sons  to  the  Count,  while  another — which  we  would  gladly 
believe  if  it  could  be  relied  upon — declared  that  two  babes 
were  added  to  his  household  every  year.  Angelica  died 
first,  about  eight  years  after  their  marriage  ;  Gertrudis  in 
two  years  afterwards :  and  the  Count  Otto  outlived  them 
many  years,  to  lament  his  double  widowhood.  They  were 
buried  in  the  St.  Peter's  Church,  in  Erfurt,  where  you  may 
still  see  their  marble  eftigies,  lying  side  by  side  on  the 
tomb,  and  their  mingled  skeletons  within.  The  Saracenic 
character  of  Angelica's  skull  has  been  recognised  by 
modem  craniologists.  At  Schwarzburg  on  the  Saale,  I 
am  told,  is  yet  preserved  the  nuptial  bed,  of  remarkable 
breadth.  It  has  been  somewhat  damaged  by  the  peasants, 
who  retain  the  belief  that  a  splinter  of  it,  kept  in  a 
house,  is  a  charm  against  all  domestic  discord,  besides 
being  a  certain  cure  for  toothache,  if  held  in  the  mouth. 

Fate,  that  seems  to  delight  in  absurd  contrasts,  reserved 
for  the  squire  a  very  different  experience  from  tha/:  of  the 
knight.  Kurt  was  a  native  of  Ohrdrufi*,  a  considerable  town 
at  the  foot  of  the  Thflringian  mountains,  where  he  had  left 
his  wife  GreteL    The  latter,  however,  had  neither  the  love 


386  AT   UOMJ£  AND   ABBOAD. 

nor  the  patience  of  the  Lady  Gertrudis.  At  the  tad  ol 
three  yeai's,  she  married  again ;  and  at  the  time  of  Otto'p 
return  was  the  mother  of  several  bouncing  boys.  Poor 
Kurt,  however,  knew  nothing  of  this,  but  hastened  back  to 
Ohrdi-uff,  eager  to  embrace  his  Gretel.  Finding  her  place 
of  abode  with  some  difficulty,  he  entered  the  house,  and, 
recognising  Gretel  in  a  strong,  raw-boned  woman,  surprised 
her  by  a  vigorous  salute.  Gretel  screamed,  and  the  new 
husband  appeared.  Kurt  was  recognised;  but  that  did  not 
mend  matters.  Both  wife  and  husband  fell  upon  him,  beat 
him  without  mercy,  and  threw  him  out  of  the  house.  Kurt 
never  returned  to  claim  Gretel. 

Of  the  ruins  of  the  castle  we  could  only  feel  certain  that 
the  vaults  and  two  upper  chambers  belonged  to  the  age  of 
Count  Otto.  There  was  one  window,  looking  eastward, 
where  I  am  sure  Angelica  must  have  sat,  remembering  the 
palms  of  Cairo,  or  joining  over  the  reproach  of  her  sterility. 

We  drove  past  the  Miihlberg  castle  without  climbing  the 
hill.  Only  the  outer  walls  remain,  worn  and  broken  into 
fantastic  shapes ;  and  it  has  no  history  which  can  interest 
us  after  that  of  its  fellow.  Wachsenburg  is  in  better  repair. 
A  portion  of  it  is  reserved  as  a  prison  for  political  offenders, 
and  the  remainder,  including  the  former  state  apartments, 
is  at  the  service  of  pleasure-seekers  like  ourselves.  In  the 
grand  hall  hang  some  hideous  old  portraits,  among  which  is 
one  of  Angelica  of  Gleichen,  painted  at  least  three  hundred 
years  after  her  death,  and,  of  course,  merely  imaginary. 
A  short  history  of  the  castles,  which  I  purchased  of  the 
guardian,  states  that  in  the  year  fourteen  hundred  and  some, 
thing,  all  three  were  struck  by  lightning  on  the  same  night 


XXXII. 

WEIMAR,  AND   ITS   DEAD. 


If  ^e  traveller,  on  his  way  from  Frankfurt  to  Berlin,  will 
look  out  of  the  right-hand  window  of  his  railway  carriage, 
about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  after  passing  Erfurt,  he  will 
see  a  small  town,  with  three  tall  spires,  seated  in  the  bottom 
of  a  broad,  natural  basin,  or  hollow,  the  sides  of  which  are 
formed  by  gradual  sweeps  of  hill-side  finally  merged  into 
an  undulating  upland.  Around  the  edges  of  the  town  the 
houses  become  more  scattering,  diminishing  as  the  gardens 
increase,  so  that  the  place  seems  to  be  an  architectiml 
deposit,  which  has  been  washed  down  from  the  circling  hills, 
vad  has  settled  itself,  like  an  alluvial  layer,  deepest  where  the 
depression  of  soil  is  greatest.  This  is  Weimar,  the  Mecca 
of  German  literature. 

I  have  seen  the  place  many  times  in  passing,  and  have 
thrice  made,  pilgrim-like,  the  round  of  its  shrines.  Though 
dull  and  quiet  now,  as  if  no  grand  creative  life  ever  fer 


888  AT  HOM£  AND  ABBOAD. 

mented  within  its  limits — ^though  no  oraole  is  heard  within 
its  Dodonian  groves — ^it  possesses,  nevertheless,  the  charm 
of  stately  repose,  in  addition  to  that  of  immortal  associations. 
He  who  seeks  in  it  quaint  and  pictui'esque  effects,  as  wel 
ts  natural  heauties,  will  not  he  disappointed ;  hut  he  who 
expects  to  find  a  single  hreath  of  that  atmosphere  of  Ait 
and  Taste  which  surrounded  it  fifty  years  ago,  will  go  home 
wiser  and  much  sadder  than  he  came.  It  seems  to  he  the 
rule,  in  all  lines  of  hereditary  rulers,  that  the  son  is  the 
reverse  of  the  &ther.  A  despotic  king  b  sure  to  have  a 
liberal  son,  and  vice  versd.  Karl  August,  of  Weimar,  whose 
name  will  be  for  ever  luminous  in  the  reflected  lustre  of  hia 
great  friends,  was  succeeded  by  a  son  who  was  little  better 
than  a  fooL  After  the  death  of  Goethe,  who  was  the  last 
of  the  Men  of  Weimar,  the  Muses  spread  their  wings  and 
flew.  **  Pan  is  dead  I"  was  the  cry,  and  the  temples  fell, 
and  no  other  gods  arose.  Weimar  is  now  the  least  literary, 
the  least  artistic,  the  most  stupidly  proud  and  aristocratic, 
the  dullest  and  most  ignorant  town  in  Germany. 

A  single  anecdote  will  illustrate  the  character  of  Karl 
August's  successor,  and  explain  how  rapidly  the  tropical 
growths  of  genius,  which  shot  so  high  under  the  genial  reign 
of  his  &ther,  must  have  withered  and  fallen  to  the  earth 
under  his.  It  was  one  of  his  delusions  that  he  was  very 
witty  and  brilliant  in  conversation.  Two  original  ideas,  in 
particular,  delighted  him  so  much,  that  for  years  he  repeated 
them  to  every  new  acquaintance.  He  would  first  ask  his 
W)lucky  guest:  "Wliat  would  you  do  if  you  were  a  dentist?' 
The  latter,  being  taken  aback  by  the  question,  would  pro 
bably  answer :  ''  Pardon  me,  your  Highness,  I  have  nevei 


WEIMAB,   AXD   ITS   DKAD.  388 

thought  of  such  a  thing."  "  Ha !"  was  the  duke's  triumphant 
declaration:  "I'll  tell  you  what  Z would  do — I'd  draw  out 
the  tooth  ofTime!  But  what  would  you  do,  if  you  were  a 
diver  ?"  To  this  there  would  be,  of  course,  the  same  uncer- 
tain reply.  "  If  Z  were  a  diver,"  the  duke  would  then  say: 
"  I'd  sink  the  tooth  of  Time  in  the  sea  of  Eternity !"  But 
the  present  demented  King  of  Prussia,  who  at  one  time  was 
really  very  briUiant  and  witty,  quite  spoiled  the  effect  of 
those  questions.  He  had  heard  of  them  in  advance,  and 
when  he  visited  Weimar,  was  fully  prepared  to  have  them 
propounded  to  him.  When  the  duke,  therefore,  asked  as 
usual :  "  What  would  you  do  if  you  were  a  dentist  ?"  the 
king  instantly  replied:  "I'd  draw  out  the  tooth  of  Time 
and  sink  it  in  the  sea  of  Eternity !"  The  present  duke, 
however,  though  a  man  of  ordinary  abilities,  does  not  inherit 
his  father's  stupidity,  while  he  possesses  a  little  of  his  grand- 
father's taste  for  Art.  The  only  celebrity  of  whom  Weimai 
can  now  boast  is  Franz  Liszt,  the  pianist  and  composer. 

The  central  part  of  the  town  is  old  and  quaint,  yet  clean, 
and  with  an  air  of  respectability,  if  not  of  pretension.  The 
beautiful  river  Ihn  touches  the  eastern  side,  threading  the 
uoble  park,  for  the  charming  arrangement  of  which  we  are 
mainly  indebted  to  Goethe.  On  this  side  are  the  palace, 
library,  ministerium,  and  the  residences  of  the  principal 
feimilies,  in  which  class  the  authors  may  be  included 
Weimar  has  no  antiquities  of  more  than  local  interest,  n« 
fine  specimens  of  architectv  re,  and  few  pictures  to  exhibit 
— ^all  the  better  for  the  reverent  visitor,  whose  mind  is  not 
disturbed  by  various  classes  of  associations,  and  who  quietly 
tracks  out  the  immoital  footsteps  of  the  poets. 


390  AX   HOME   AJSD   ABBOAD. 

You  go  first  to  Goethe's  town-house,  which  is  a  plain, 
yellow,  two-story  building,  on  ^  small  triangular  square. 
(This  bull  cannot  well  be  avoided  in  English.)  I  have  nevei 
been  able  to  visit  the  private  apartments,  which  are  only 
exhibited  on  certain  days,  but  on  one  occasion  was  admitted 
into  the  garden  in  the  rear.  The  back  wall  of  the  house 
is  overgrown  with  ivy,  and  has  a  quaint,  home-like,  yet 
neglected  aii*.  The  arrangement  of  the  garden  has  evidently 
been  changed,  so  that  there  are  but  two  aibors  which  we 
could  with  certainty  ascribe  to  the  time  of  Goethe.  Still, 
it  was  a  pleasure  to  walk  in  those  alleys,  where  the  old  man 
was  wont  to  pace,  in  his  dressing-grown,  with  hands  clasped 
behind  his  back,  repeating,  perhaps,  his  own  couplet,  as  his 
thoughts  wandered  over  the  wrecks,  the  passions,  and  tba 
triumphs  of  the  Past : 

"What  I  possess,  I  see  far  distant  lying, 
And  what  is  lost,  is  real  and  undying  I" 

There  has  been  a  great  deal  of  absurd  talk  about  Goethe, 
as  there  has  been  about  Byron,  Shelley,  Tegner,  and  every 
other  author,  who  happens  to  violate,  now  and  then,  the 
sacred  decencies  of  Society.  The  offence  consists,  not  so 
much  in  what  they  may  do,  as  in  the  contemptuous  candor 
with  which  they  avow  it.  A  little  dissimulation  would  have 
made  them  very  proper  men.  They  woidd  have  received 
a  sort  of  canonization  from  public  opinion,  and  the  world 
would  have  been  none  the  wiser.  Schiller,  with  a  narrower 
grasp  of  intellect,  a  more  undemonstrative,  if  not  a  colder 
nature,  is  mounted  on  an  immaculate  moral  pedestal,  while 
Goethe  (to  those  who  are  incapable  of  appreciating  him)  ii 


WEIMAR,    AND   ITS   DEAD.  891 

smutched  with  the  rankest  faults  and  heresies.  Yet  on  thp 
monument  just  erected  m  their  honor,  they  stand  side  by 
side,  and  the  hand  of  each  rests  on  the  same  crown  of  laureL 
Who  shall  say  which  was  best,  purest,  and  most  consistent  ? 
Not  the  generation,  nor  even  the  century,  in  which  a  man 
lives,  can  judge  him  impartially. 

Schiller's  house  is  an  old,  quaint,  yet  comfortable  building, 
on  one  of  the  broadest  streets.  It  has  been  purchased  by 
a  general  subscription,  for  the  purpose  of  being  preserved, 
and  now  contains  a  collection  of  relics  associated  with  the 
poet's  residence  there.  The  halls  and  staircases  are  dark 
and  narrow,  the  rooms  cramped  and  low,  and  the  furniture 
— judging  from  the  specimens  remaining — was  of  the  plainest 
kind;  yet  everything  suggests  quiet,  contentment,  and 
unpretending  simplicity.  The  upper  (third)  story  belonged 
especially  to  Schiller.  From  the  top  of  the  staircase  yon 
step  into  a  plain  drawing-room,  beyond  which  is  his  study, 
with  the  pictures,  writing-desk,  and  piano,  just  as  he  left 
them.  The  writing-desk  is  of  plain,  unpainted  wood,  with 
drawers  for  MSS.  on  each  side,  and  a  recess  for  the  feet  in 
the  centre.  Here  the  poet  was  accustomed  to  sit  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  night,  with  a  bottle  of  champagne  or 
Rhenish  wine  before  him,  and  his  feet  in  a  tub  of  cold  water. 
With  such  a  double  stimulus  actuig  on  the  brain,  it  is  not 
80  surprising  that  he  should  have  written  "  Wallenstein" 
or  "  Wilhelm  Tell,"  as  that  he  should  have  lived  to  the  age 
of  forty -five. 

The  personal  impression  made  by  Schiller  was  that  of  a 
colder  and  more  taciturn  man  than  his  poems  would  lead 
OS  to  imagine.     Except  in  the  company  of  his  few  intimate 


392  AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

Meuds,  he  was  reserved  and  melancholy.  This,  no  doubi, 
was  the  result  of  ill-health,  and  the  cares  which  oppressed 
him  during  the  best  years  of  his  life.  The  overplus  of  ea 
thusiasm  which  inspired  his  "  Hyom  to  Joy,"  in  youth,  wai 
.<i])eedi]y  chilled,  and  the  sweetest,  tenderest  tone  of  sadness 
pervades  his  later  poems.  In  his  addi-ess  "  To  the  Ideal," 
he  relinquishes  every  golden  dream,  and  finds  but  two 
source?  of  strength  and  consolation — Friendship  and  Occu- 
pation— amid  the  trials  of  the  actual  life  which  surrounds 
him.  He  does  not  accept  Life  as  it  is,  \vith  its  stern  truths 
and  relentless  disenchantments ;  but  pines  for  that  impossi- 
ble existence  which  once  seemed  so  near.  Yet  this  sadness, 
which  would  otherwise  be  a  weakness,  is  redeemed  by  his 
unshaken  faith  in  the  good — his  incessant  aspirations  for 
the  elevation,  the  happiness,  and  the  freedom  of  his  fellow- 
men.  Thus,  with  less  knowledge  of  human  nature  than 
Goethe,  he  had  a  profounder  sympathy  with  the  race,  and 
will  for  ever  retain  a  warmer  place  in  the  German  heart. 

The  pictures  in  Schiller's  study  are  rude,  colored  prints 
of  Italian  scenery,  whose  only  attraction  for  him  could 
have  been  the  subjects.  The  piano  is  a  queer  little  cracked 
affair,  and  the  chairs  are  of  the  plainest  and  stiffest  pattern. 
The  oiiginal  cast  of  characters  for  the  first  performance  of 
"  WUhelm  Tell,"  in  his  own  hand,  hangs  near  the  desk. 
His  coffee-cup  and  saucer,  penknife,  pencil,  and  various 
other  small  articles,  lie  upon  a  table.  A  portrait  of  hi* 
wife,  Charlotte  von  Lengefeld,  in  pencil,  represents  her  as 
a  large,  aquiline,  determined  woman — ^the  proper  stamp  to 
advise  and  assist,  as  well  as  passively  appreciate.  On  a 
table  in  the  drawing-room  lies  the  Schiller  Album,  consist 


WEDiAB,    AND   ITS   DSAD.  893 

Ing  of  autographic  contributions  from  nearly  all  the  autliors 
and  artists  of  Germany.  Behind  the  house  is  a  little,  nar- 
row garden-plot,  with  an  arbor  of  American  ivy  {ampelop- 
w«) — called  "  wild  wine  "  by  the  Germans — which  was  the 
poet's  favorite  resort  on  summer  evenings. 

One  interesting  relic  of  Schiller — his  court  sword — ^ia 
now  in  my  possession.  It  fell  into  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Thackeray,  dui-ing  his  residence  at  Weimar,  in  1830,  at 
which  time  there  was  no  difficulty  in  estabUshing  its  au- 
thenticity. After  having  had  it  in  his  possession  twenty- 
eight  years,  Mr.  Thackeray  presented  it  to  me,  enriched  by 
the  double  association,  as  he  had  himself  frequently  worn 
it  at  the  court  of  Weimar. 

The  houses  of  Herder  and  Wieland  are  not,  I  believe, 
open  to  public  inspection,  and  I  Avas  obliged  to  be  content 
with  an  outside  view  of  them.  Both  these  authors  have 
also  been  honored  with  bronze  statues.  The  park,  how- 
ever, which  has,  ordinarily,  all  the  seclusion  of  a  private 
pleasure-ground,  interested  me  more  than  the  vacant  tene- 
ments of  the  dead  poets.  It  takes  in  the  deep,  winding 
valley  of  the  Hm,  and  its  undulating  southern  bank,  for  a 
distance  of  nearly  two  miles,  the  trees  being  left,  as  much 
as  possible,  in  their  natural  disposition.  Two  or  three 
artificial  fancies,  only,  deform  the  else  unstudied  scenery — 
the  ars  celare  artem  of  landscape  gardening.     There  is  an 

vied  ruin,  on  the  summit  of  a  knoll — very  well  done,  in- 
deed, but  it  can  deceive  no  one  for  a  hundred  years  to 
come.  A  rocky  grotto  near  the  river  bank  is  better,  for 
Nature  has  lent  it  one  of  her  clearest  and  coldest  fountains 

The  bed  of  the  valley  is  level,^  with  a  scattering  growth  of 


894  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

majestic  elms  and  lindens,  dappling  the  flowery  turf  with 
cold,  blue  shadows.  There  are  no  extensive  views,  nothing 
grand  and  imposing ;  but  all  is  peaceful,  idyllic,  Arcadian. 

This  park  is  full  of  memories  of  the  classic  age.  1  tt  one 
of  the  walks,  Herder  and  Jean  Paul  met  for  the  first  time, 
embracing  each  other  at  sight,  with  unhesitating  love  and 
confidence.  In  a  secluded  nook  there  is  a  summer-house 
of  rough  wood  and  bark,  which,  it  is  whispered,  witnessed 
many  a  secret  midnight  revel  of  the  duke  and  the  poets ; 
and  where  the  Ilm  rests  his  waters  in  a  deep,  quiet  dam, 
the  young  Goethe  delighted,  on  moonlight  nights,  to  dive 
from  the  shaded  bank  and  reappear  suddenly,  with  wild 
shrieks,  in  the  centre  of  the  pool,  to  the  awful  terror  oi 
peasants  passing  over  the  bridge  above.  Here  walked 
Schiller,  tall,  stoop-shouldered,  and  grave ;  here  the  short, 
slender,  compact  brothers  Von  Humboldt,  overflowing  with 
boundless  energy  and  ambition  ;  Madame  de  Stael,  stout, 
brilliant,  and  belligerent ;  Wieland,  with  his  puckered  face, 
and  Herder,  portly  and  prosperous;  Bettine,  the  smart, 
gentimental,  and  affected  little  imp,  performing  her  monkey- 
like antics  around  the  knees  of  Goethe;  the  Schlegels, 
whose  genius  only  saved  them  from  being  snobs ;  Novalis, 
the  pure  and  beautiful  soul,  and  Theodor  Korner,  who 
struck  a  more  heroic  harp  than  Tyrtaeus — all  of  these,  and 
scores  of  others,  whose  places  in  the  German  Pantheon  are 
a  little  lower,  knew  these  cool,  embowered  walks  and 
grassy  glades. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  Hm,  facing  the  meadow,  is  the 
"  Garden  House "  of  Goethe,  where  his  summers  were 
spent,  and  m<iny  of  hiR  finest  works  written.     It  is  a  plain, 


WSIMAB,   AXD   ITS  DBAD.  39lf 

old  fashioned  residence,  hardly  better  than  the  amtmatm 
of  any  country  village  inhabits — shaded  by  a  steep,  wooded 
hill  from  the  morning  sun,  yet  open  to  the  soft  aftemooD 
light  and  the  flush  of  sunset,  A  friend  of  mine,  a  distin 
giiished  German  gentleman,  described  to  me  his  interview 
witli  Goethe  in  this  house,  in  the  year  1819.  My  friend  is 
an  f  nthusiastic  geologist,  and  in  the  autumn  of  that  year 
was  fortunate  enough  to  procure  a  portion  of  an  aerolite, 
which  fell  in  the  valley  of  the  Saale.  On  his  return  home, 
he  determined  to  profit  by  the  opportunity,  and  exhibit 
his  treasure  to  Goethe,  who  was  then  prosecuting  his 
geological  studies.  "  It  was  just  after  the  assassination  of 
Kotzebue  by  Sand,"  said  he,  "  and  the  excitement  through- 
out Germany  was  very  great.  There  were  rumors  that 
Goethe,  also,  who  was  obnoxious  to  the  patriotic  party, 
feared  a  similar  fate.  On  my  way  to  his  residence,  I 
reflected  that  the  aerolite  was  in  my  breast-pocket,  and  the 
inserting  of  my  hand  in  order  to  present  it,  would  have 
just  the  appeai-ance  of  drawing  a  concealed  dagger.  In 
order,  therefore,  to  avoid  a  possible  embarrassment,  I  put 
the  stone  into  my  hat. 

"After  waiting  in  the  ante-room  a  few  minutes,  the  door 
opened,  and  Goethe  appeared  in  his  dressing-gown,  tall, 
masfflve,  and  majestic.  My  first  thought  was  the  exclama- 
tion of  Lear :  '  Ay,  every  inch  a  king ! '  He  had  the 
grandest  presence  of  any  man  I  had  ever  seen.  I  advanced, 
hat  in  hand,  and  taking  out  the  aerolite,  made  it  at  once  an 
apology  and  an  introduction.  He  was  both  pleased  and 
interested,  and  after  a  long  interview,  during  which  he 
exhibited  to  me  his  entire  mineralogical  cabinet,  we  parted, 


SM  AX  HOMK  AJSfD  ABBOAD. 

with  a  cordial  invitation  on  his  part  to  visit  him  again.  1 
tried  in  vain  to  get  his  opinion  with  regard  to  the  forma 
tion  of  aerolites,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  knew 
no  more  about  it  than  I  did  myseLC  His  manner  w&a 
stately,  yet  not  cold ;  and  his  voice,  though  not  entirely 
reminding  you  of  *  deep-toned  thunder  mixed  with  whis- 
pering rain-dropg,'  as  Jean  Paul  said,  was  certainly  very 
rich,  fiill,  and  in  unison  with  hb  whole  appearance." 

Yet  this  philosopher-poet,  who  wrote  not  only  "  Faust," 
but  the  "  Theory  of  Colors,"  and  the  "  Metamorphoses  of 
Plants,"  could  touch  a  string  as  delicate  and  tender  as  that 
of  Ariel^-could  sing  the  songs  of  the  zephyr  and  the  brook, 
as  well  as  the  chorus  of  the  archangels. 

"  Under  the  tree-tops  is  sOent  now  I 
In  all  the  woodlands  bearest  thou 

Not  a  sound : 
The  little  birds  are  asleep  in  the  trees; 
Wait,  beloved  1  and  soon  like  these 

Sleepestthoul" 

— is  the  serenade  which  he  whispers  at  dusk.  And  this 
song — which,  dissatisfied  with  the  way  in  which  Aytoun 
and  others  have  turned  it  into  English — I  have  translated 
for  myself:  is  it  not  the  voice  of  a  summer  afternoon  ? 

Up  yonder  on  the  mountain 

A.  thousand  times  I  stand, 
Leant  on  my  crook,  and  gazing 

Down  on  the  valley  land. 


WKIMAS,   AND   ITS   DBAD.  397 

I  follow  the  flock  to  the  pasture; 

The  little  dog  follows  them  still: 
I  have  come  below,  but  I  know  not 

How  I  descended  the  hilL 

The  beautiiul  meadow  is  covered 

"With  blossoms  of  every  hue ; 
I  pluck  them,  alas  I  without  knowing 

Whom  I  shall  give  them  to. 

I  find,  in  the  rain  and  the  tempest 

A  refuge  under  the  tree- 
But  yonder  the  doors  are  ^staned, 

And  all  is  a  dream  to  me. 

Bight  over  the  roof  of  the  dwelUng 

I  see  a  rainbow  stand ; 
But  s?ie  has  departed  for  ever, 

And  gone  far  out  in  the  landl 

Far  out  in  the  land,  and  farther — 

Perhaps  to  an  alien  shore : 
Gro  forward,  ye  sheep,  go  forward  1 

The  heart  of  the  shepherd  is  sore. 

Leave  the  park  on  your  left,  and  follow  its  western 
boundary  until  you  pass  the  suburbs  of  Weimar.  Here, 
on  a  gentle  slope,  is  the  City  of  the  Dead,  in  the  midst 
whereof  rises  the  mausoleum  of  the  reigning  family.  The 
lodge-keeper  will  imlock  the  ponderous  doors  for  you,  and 
permit  you  to  descend  to  a  grating,  through  which  you 
look  into  the  dim  vault.  There,  side  by  side,  are  the  sar- 
nophagi  which  contain  the  ashes  of  Goethe  and  Schille'' 


808  AT  HOMB  AND  ABSOAD. 

Karl  August,  their  princely  friend,  lies  near — ^not  beltoeen 
tliein,  as  he  desired — for  Weimar  is  intensely  aristocrati* 
and  proper.  But  it  is  better  so.  The  true  noblemen  sleep 
together,  separated  from  the  crowd  of  nominal  and  aoci 
dental  ones. 


XXXIII. 

A    GERMAN    IDYL. 

[SEPTEMBEB,  1868.] 


A  SHORT  time  before  leaving  my  Gothaic  or  Gothic  home 
(the  tradition  is,  that  Gotha  was  founded  by  the  Goths, 
whence  its  name),  a  marriage  took  place.  My  friend, 
Eckart,  the  announcement  of  whose  betrothal  with  Emilie 
was  proclaimed  on  the  very  day  of  another  bridal,  some  ten 
months  previous,  finished  the  momentous  business  in  the 
church  of  St.  Margaret,  with  the  assistance  of  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Beercup.  But  a  wedding  in  the  old  central,  Saxon  portion 
of  Germany,  is  by  no  means  the  stiff  and  stately  affair  that 
it  is  in  Anglo-Saxon  countries.  As  all  possible  publicity  is 
given  to  a  betrothal — which  with  us  is  often  kept  a  profound 
secret — so  marriages  are  always  solemnized  in  the  church; 
and  give  occasion  to  open  and  unrestrained  expiessious  of 
joy  and  good-wiU  on  the  part  of  the  relatives  and  friends 


400  AT  HOMZ  AND  ABBOAD.  "^ 

In  England  and  the  United  States,  a  man  shiinks  from  anj 
observed  demonstration  of  love,  as  if  it  were  a  weakness  to 
be  concealed :  in  Germany,  the  bridegroom  desires  that  all 
the  world  should  witness  his  bride  and  happiness.  To  be 
ure,  tears  are  always  shed  (no  wedding  seems  to  be  com- 
lete  without  them),  but  the  newly-married  are  always  sure 
)f  the  heartiest  sympathy  and  respect.  The  Court  Chapel 
in  Gotha  has  a  weeping  sexton,  whose  tears  fell  heavy  or 
light,  in  proportion  to  the  amount  of  his  fee. 

The  evening  before  the  happy  day  has  a  peculiar  celebra- 
tion of  its  own.  It  is  called  the  Polter-Abend^  or  "  Crock 
Evening,"  from  an  ancient  custom,  which  still  prevails  to 
some  extent,  of  smashing  an  old  crock  on  the  door-sill  of  the 
bride's  residence  for  good  luck.  This  performance,  however, 
is  only  part  of  a  very  extensive  scheme  of  merry-making,  in 
which  all  the  friends  of  the  parties  are  free  to  indulge,  no 
invitation  being  necessary.  The  bride  and  the  bridegroom, 
enthroned  upon  a  dais,  receive  the  visits  of  all  who  choose 
to  come  in  fancy  costume,  assuming  some  appropriate 
character.  Of  course,  there  is  great  room  for  the  display 
of  fun  as  well  as  good-will,  and  the  parties  are  very  often 
good-humoredly  teased  for  their  real  or  supposed  short- 
comings. Formerly,  the  polter^  or  crock,  was  smashed  at 
the  feet  of  the  couple,  previous  to  the  masquerade  of 
characters.  Now,  it  is  broken  at  the  door  during  the 
evening,  and  sometimes  omitted  altogether.  The  pro 
gramme  is  always  ke])t  a  secret  from  the  betrothed,  and,  as 
far  as  possible,  from  the  rest  of  the  company,  so  that  the 
performance  is  all  the  more  entertaining  from  its  unexpected 
features. 


A  GSBMA^  IDYIm  401 

Eckart's  pclter-evening  was  very  diverting.  After  he 
and  Emilia  had  been  seated  in  their  places  of  honor  on  one 
side  of  the  frescoed  saloon,  and  all  the  friends  who  cam* 
simply  as  mere  spectators  were  in  attendance,  a  darkhaired 
gipsy,  picturesque  in  crimson  and  black,  made  her  appear- 
ance, and  in  some  neat  rhymes  pronounced  her  prognostica- 
tions of  the  future  happiness  of  the  pair.  Then  came  the 
two  bridesmaids,  in  white,  carrying  the  bridal  wreath  of 
myrtle,  which  it  is  their  special  duty  to  furnish.  As  it  is 
woven  by  virgin  hands,  it  can  only  be  worn  by  a  virgin 
bride.  A  wido«r  who  marries  again  has  no  right  to  the 
myrtle,  but  may  wear  a  wreath  of  other  flowers.  The 
wreath  is  always  presented  with  an  appropnate  poem,  an«l 
this  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  features  of  the  evening. 

The  Master  of  Ceremonies  now  announced  an  arrival  froxa 
China.  A  Celestial  lady  with  oblique  eyebrows  (painted 
for  the  occasion),  hair  of  the  latest  Pekin  frisure.,  and  widp 
gown  of  rich  figured  silk,  rushed  into  the  saloon,  and  fiercely 
upbraided  Eckart  for  his  infidelity  to  her.  She  was,  how 
ever,  consoled  by  a  little  mandam,  in  a  poetical  dialogue, 
and  the  twain  finally  presented  the  bride  with  a  bird's  nest 
for  her  wedding-soup,  and  danced  a  funny  Confucian  jig. 
Next  appeared  a  Patagonian  giantess,  over  six  feet  high, 
and  attired  in  skins.  She  created  much  amusement  by  her 
assumed  maiden  modesty,  and  her  languishing  appeals  to 
the  single  gentlemen  present.  There  was  also  an  Ethiopian, 
with  an  attempt  at  a  break-down— a  thing  in  which  no 
German  could  possibly  succeed;  a  handsome  Greek  boy, 
bearing  a  mystic  communication  from  the  oracle  of  Delphi ; 
and  finally,  a  whale,  extended  on  a  bench,  brandishing  t 


408  AT  UOM£  AND  ABBOAB. 

forked  tail  of  lilack  chintz,  and  spouting  water  throagli  hit 
QOstriLs  upon  the  company,  with  a  garden  syringe  I 

The  prettiest  apparition,  however,  was  the  Fairy  of  the 
Thttringiau  Forest,  whose  golden  hau-  and  floating  white 
iress  were  decorated  with  sprays  of  fir,  beech,  and  oak. 
In  a  charming  poetical  address,  she  presented  the  bridal 
pair  with  branches  of  the  same  trees,  typical  of  beauty, 
strength,  and  fidelity.  0  blue-eyed  maid  of  Holstein  I  may 
thy  beech  find  an  oak  to  shelter  it,  and  the  steadfast  fir 
never  be  absent  from  the  garden  of  thy  life  I  When  the 
procession  of  characteis  was  completed,  we  had  liberal 
refreshments,  consisting  of  varieties  of  sandwiches,  bratvmrsi 
(another  feature  of  the  polter-evening),  and  cups  of  punch. 
A  good  performer  took  his  place  at  the  piano,  and  the  saloon 
was  cleared  for  dancing.  The  company  dispersed  before 
midnight,  in  order  that  the  family  might  rest  themselves 
for  the  morrow. 

I  pass  over  the  wedding,  which  was  like  all  other  weddings 
in  church,  except  that  the  Lutheran  marriage  service  is 
simpler,  and,  to  my  thinking,  more  appropriate  and  agree- 
able than  that  of  the  English  Church.  Half  an  hour  sufficed 
to  give  love  the  supremest  sanction,  and  to  impose  upon 
the  parties  the  solepn  duties  and  obhgations  of  the  marriage 
state.  Then  we  sat  down  to  a  sumptuous  dinner,  which 
was  prolonged  by  a  multitude  of  courses  through  the  whole 
afternoon.  There  was  carp  from  the  ponds  of  Ohrdruff; 
reindeer  steaks  from  Norway ;  capercailzie  and  venison  from 
the  forests;  wine  from  Rhenish,  Franconian,  and  Burgun- 
dian  hills,  and  a  bewildering  variety  of  those  artistic  salad- 
mosaics,  in   which   the  German   culmary  mind  delights 


A  GSBMAN  IDYL.  40S 

The  foresteis  in  their  green  uniforms,  the  rotund  editor, 
the  country  pastor,  and  the  benign  grandmother,  seated 
together,  blended  into  a  social  salad  of  equally  heterogeneous 
elements ;  and  I  was  not  surprised  when  the  evening  music 
struck  up,  that  their  indiridualities  should  have  become 
slightly  confounded — ^that  the  pastor  waltzed  merrily  with 
the  bridesmaid,  the  editor  gossiped  quietly  with  the  grand- 
mother, and  the  foresters  talked  politics. 

You  are  shocked  at  this,  O  my  evangelical  reader  1  But 
do  not  be  too  hasty.  Remember  that  in  the  German 
theology  asceticism  has  no  place — that  the  clergymen,  even 
those  of  the  most  orthodox  stamp,  are  faithful  disciples  of 
Luther,  whose  great  warm,  mellow,  merry  heart  it  was, 
rather  than  his  inkstand,  which  put  the  Devil  to  flight. 
Their  position  does  not  debar  them  from  the  enjoyment  of 
any  innocent  and  cheering  amusement.  If  my  friend,  the 
pastor,  had  danced  in  the  sight  of  all  his  congregation,  they 
would  have  listened  to  him  on  the  next  Sabbath  with  no 
less  dutiftil  reverence.  The  milestones  along  a  German's 
life  are  his  domestic  and  social  festivals.  On  this  track  his 
religion  walks  hand-in-hand  with  him,  not  frowning,  with 
averted  head,  on  a  distant  path,  where  no  roses  spring  from 
the  flinty  soil. 

But  the  short  September  dusk  deepened  into  night,  and 
the  grandmother's  cart  was  at  the  door ;  so  the  new  bus 
band  and  wife  took  their  seats  with  her,  and  the  three  sei 
out  for  the  castle  of  Friedrichswerth,  of  which  the  old  lady 
was  sole  castellan.  It  is  seven  or  eight  miles  distant  fi-om 
Gotha,  in  a  secluded  valley,  behind  the  barren  Horselberg- 
l  had  often  intended  to  visit  the  old  ducal  castle,  but  pro 


i04  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

bably  should  never  Lave  carried  out  my  design,  had  not 
Eckart  and  his  wife  gone  to  spend  the  first  week  of  theii 
honeymoon  there.  Two  days  afterwards,  on  one  of  the 
loveliest  and  sunniest  days  that  ever  blessed  the  world,  1 
&et  off  alone,  in  a  light  open  carriage. 

What  is  sweeter  than  a  golden  autumnal  day  in  Mid- 
Germany?  The  first  yellow  leaves  are  falling  from  the 
linden  colonnades  on  either  side  of  the  road;  the  fields, 
uninterrupted  by  hedge  or  fence,  spread  their  mosaic  of 
green,  brown,  and  tawny  squares  over  the  wide,  undulating 
hills,  until,  in  bluer  waves,  they  meet  the  indistinct  horizon ; 
nestled  in  every  hollow,  the  red  roofs  of  the  villages  are 
softened  to  pink  or  purple  by  the  gauzy  air;  and  beyond 
all,  the  mountain-ranges,  dark  with  firs,  are  basking  softly 
in  a  noonday  dream.  The  knobs  of  scarlet  berries  gleam 
on  the  wild-boar  ash ;  the  meadows  are  sprinkled  with  the 
lilac  blossoms  of  the  colchicum,  and  the  winding  belts  of 
tall  alders  which  mark  the  course  of  the  streams  will  defy 
the  frosts  for  a  month  to  come.  There  is  no  jubilant  vin- 
tage, with  its  bonfires  and  rockets,  as  on  the  Rhine,  but 
the  villages  are  jolly  with  the  Kirmae.,  and  the  blonde 
youths  you  meet  have  gay  rosettes  on  their  caps.  From 
the  beer-gardens  you  hear  the  clink  of  the  heavy  glasses, 
or  a  genial  chorus,  or  that  sweet  song  which  everybody 
knows: 


*  Down  in  a  oool,  green  vallej 
There  goes  a  mill-wheel  round; 
fiut  my  sweetheart  she  has  vaniahed— 
The  sweetheart  there  I  foiukL" 


A  GEB1CAI9   IDTL.  ,  4<MI 

Iq  the  placid  enjoyment  of  such  sights  and  sounds,  I  wa€ 
carried  on  towards  Friedrichswerth,  and  the  blue,  ringleted 
breath  of  my  contentment  floated  behind  me  on  the  autumn 
Mr.  Gotha,  despite  its  lofty  perch,  disappeared  behind  the 
wooded  ridge  of  the  Krahnberg,  and  a  new  valley  opened 
before  me — a  broad  basin,  sweeping  away  to  the  northern 
base  of  the  Horselberg,  and  bounded  on  the  west  by  gently 
rounded  hills,  to  the  green  declivities  of  which  villages 
were  clinging.  In  the  centre  of  the  landscape  was  Fried- 
richswerth, the  square  gray  front  of  its  castle  rising  above 
the  rounded,  billowy  green  of  the  pleasure-garden  belong- 
ing to  it.  The  naked  heights  of  the  Horsel,  usually  so 
brown  and  forbidding,  were  now  muffled  in  a  violet  film, 
as  fair  as  the  veil  of  the  enchantress,  Frau  Holle,  who  still 
sits  within  their  caverns,  to  lure  a  new  Tannhauser  to  her 
fetal  arms.  It  must  have  been  on  such  a  day  that  the  dry 
staff  of  the  despairing  pilgrim  burst  into  miraculous  bloom, 
the  sign  of  pardon  and  of  rest.  Gazing  on  the  haunted 
hills,  I  found  my  mind  involuntarily  following  the  thread 
of  that  legend,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  nine  men  out  of 
every  ten  would  have  done  just  as  Tannhauser  did. 

Leaving  my  carriage  at  the  village  inn,  I  crossed  the 
bridge  over  the  empty  moat,  and  entered  the  castle.  It  is 
a  plain,  massive  building,  occupying  three  sides  of  a  paral 
lelogram,  and  built  in  the  style  of  the  sixteenth  century 
Entering  a  door  at  a  venture,  I  found  myself  in  a  spacious, 
arched  kitchen,  large  enough  to  furnish  a  meal  for  five 
hundred  men.  At  the  sound  of  my  footsteps,  the  door 
opened,  and  the  grandmother  appeared.  She  at  once  con- 
ducted me  to  an  inner  chamber,  likewise  vaulted,  wheie  ] 


406  •       AT  HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

found  Eckart  and  his  wife.  I  had  not  taken  my  seat  before 
I  was  presented  with  a  large  mug  of  foaming  beer — ihe 
beginning  of  a  series  of  hospitalities  from  which  there  was 
no  escape,  save  in  flight. 

The  whole  castle — which  is  uninhabited,  except  by  the 
good  old  commandress — was  put  at  our  disposal.  A  hun- 
dred years  ago  it  was  the  favorite  summer  residence  of  the 
Dukes  of  Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg ;  but  since  the  extinction 
of  the  old  house,  and  the  union  with  Coburg,  it  has  been 
emptied  of  everything  but  a  few  bad  pictures,  and  entirely 
neglected.  It  was  built,  I  believe,  about  1670,  by  Duke 
Frederick  IT.,  and  further  adorned  and  beautified  by  his 
successors.  The  piincely  builder  seems  to  have  been  an- 
noyed by  strictures  upon  his  architectural  taste,  for  he 
placed  at  the  bottom  of  the  staircase,  in  the  main  hall,  a 
large  carved  figure  of  a  fool,  grinning  maliciously,  and 
pointing  with  his  right  hand  to  an  unfolded  scroU  in  his 
left,  on  which  was  written — as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect  the 
words — "Hal  ha!  here  is  the  Fool,  you  say.  The  castle 
has  been  built  solidly  and  in  good  style,  by  the  Prince 
Friederich  II.  for  his  pleasure  and  satisfaction.  Now  it  is 
finished,  and  if  you  don't  like  it,  take  care ;  for  perhaps  the 
style  of  it  may  be  better  than  your  own,  and  then  you  are 
the  Fool,  after  all !» 

The  state  chambers  were  in  a  ruinous  condition,  from 
sheer  neglect.  The  heavy  gilded  cornices  were  tarnished, 
the  frescoes  faded  and  chipped  off  in  spots,  the  plastei 
reliefe  broken,  and  the  carved  wainscots  riddled  with  rat- 
holes.  Only  the  chapel,  with  its  silent  organ,  and  its  altar 
piously  kept  clear  of  dust,  retains  a  little  of  the  olden  state 


▲  QKBMAir  IDTL.  409 

Around  the  choir  is  an  elaborate  frieze  of  wood-cai'ving, 
representing  a  multitude  of  cherub  choristers  and  musicians, 
of  the  size  of  life.  Many  of  the  baby  figures  are  charming 
— lightsome  and  graceful,  in  spite  of  the  giant  mushrooms 
(meant  for  clouds)  in  the  midst  cf  which  they  are  singing. 
A  few  paintings  of  court  beauties,  of  a  century  ago,  have 
been  left ;  but  the  most  of  them  are  damaged  and  faded. 

Another  bridge  crosses  the  moat  to  the  garden,  which  is 
a  specimen  of  horticultural  pomp  relapsing  into  barbarism, 
and  more  beautiful,  perhaps,  in  its  unprimed  and  neglected 
state,  than  it  ever  was  when  its  rectangular  walks  and 
pyramidal  trees  mimicked  Versailles.  In  a  dark,  circular 
grove  of  lindens  are  the  old  grottoes  and  fountains;  but 
the  grotesque  rock-work  has  tumbled  down,  the  fountains 
are  dry,  and  the  marble  nymphs  have  veiled  their  nudity 
in  a  thick  garb  of  yellow  mould.  Only  a  little  dark  water 
at  the  bottom  of  this  basin  glimmers  through  the  funereal 
shade.  On  either  hand,  hedges  of  yew  and  holly,  which 
once  presented  smooth-cUpped  walls  to  the  walk,  have  shot 
out  lawless  boughs  in  all  directions — taking  forms  all  the 
wilder  for  their  previous  restraint.  A  few  statues  are  still 
standing  at  the  turns  of  the  walks;  and  there  are  some 
tables  and  benches  imder  the  lindens,  where  you  can  drink 
your  tea — or  beer. 

At  the  northern  end  of  the  garden,  a  broad  flight  of 
steps  leads  to  a  large  artificial  terrace,  surroimded  by 
massive  stone  balustrade,  now  falling  to  pieces,  and  half 
concealed  in  the  vsdldesi,  tangle  of  vines — ^ivy,  roses,  night 
shade,  grapes,  honeysuckles,  and  blackberries,  matted 
together  in  a  wrestle  for  the  lordship  of  the  place.    In  the 


408  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAS. 

centre  of  the  terrace  is  another  cirque  of  Druid  lindena, 
protecting  a  mutilated  statue  of  Diana.  The  high  garden 
walls  are  hidden  on  the  north  side  with  close  hedges  of 
yew,  and  on  the  isouth  are  covered  with  bounteous  grape- 
rines.  Around  the  whole  tract,  which  comprises  fi*om 
6fteen  to  twenty  acres,  runs  a  broad,  deep  moat,  outside 
of  which  stood,  prior  to  1848,  a  noble  avenue  of  lindens, 
inclosing  the  whole.  During  the  revolutionary  excitement, 
however,  the  people  cut  them  down. 

As  we  sat  on  the  terrace,  under  the  lindens,  while  the 
blue  summit  of  the  Horsel  darkened  against  the  sinking 
Bun,  the  old  grandmother  told  us  of  the  traditionary  splen- 
dors of  the  court ;  how  the  dukes  came  hither  for  summer 
gaiety,  and  were  visited  here  by  all  the  neighboiing 
princes,  and  by  noblemen  from  Paris  and  Berlin ;  how 
they  hunted  over  the  northern  hills,  and  danced  at  evening 
in  the  great  hall ;  how  the  moat  was  then  full  of  water, 
and  splendid  barges  rowed  around  castle  and  garden  by 
torchlight,  to  the  sound  of  music ;  what  glittering  coats 
the  gentlemen  wore,  what  diamonds  the  ladies ;  how  rich 
and  grand  they  were — yet,  for  all  that,  no  better  than  they 
should  be;  in  short  (although  she  did  not  say  that), 
what  a  selfish,  affected,  vain,  licentious,  stupid  crew  once 
housed  in  this  paradise.  How  sweet  the  present  seclusion 
and  neglect,  contrasted  with  those  glittering  orgies  I 

I  have  rarely  seen  a  place  which  fascinated  me  so  en 
tirely.  Its  aspect  was  not  sad,  but  soothing  and  happy,  ax- 
if  every  tree  said  to  itself:  "Now they  have  let  me  alone, 
I  can  grow  as  I  please,  and  take  some  comfort  in  living." 
The  silent  garden,  clasped  in  the  centre  of  the  broad. 


A  OBBMAir  IDTL.  409 

tranqm]  landscape,  was  a  happy  valley,  away  from  the 
restless  world.  The  whistle  of  the  locomotive  does  not 
pierce  the  rocky  Horsel,  on  the  other  side  of  which  the 
railroad  runs.  The  peasants  who  inhabit  the  valley  rarely 
leave  their  homes ;  neither  foreign  nor  native  tourist  ever 
comes  thither ;  perhaps  a  few  papers  are  taken,  but  they 
don't  often  contain  any  news :  and  so  the  valley  lives  on, 
in  a  lazy,  undisturbed  life  of  its  own.  If  I  ever  should 
become  thoroughly  exhausted  in  body  and  brain,  tired  of 
work,  sick  of  excitement,  and  surfeited  with  the  restraints 
o*"  society,  I  shall  take  two  chambers  in  the  old  castle  ( the 
grandmother  promised  to  let  me  have  them),  and  bury 
myself  in  Friedrichswerth,  until  its  repose  ceases  to  be  a 
oalm,  and  labor  is  welcome  again. 

I  did  not  return  to  Gotha  at  sunset,  as  I  had  designed. 
First,  I  must  have  coffee  in  the  duke's  cup ;  then  a  table 
had  been  set  in  one  of  the  vaulted  chambers — ^the  parson 
was  there,  and  the  roast  would  soon  be  ready.  "  Go  now  ? 
No,  indeed.  You  don't  stir  until  after  supper  1 "  said  the 
commandress.  The  roast  was  done  to  a  turn,  the  salad 
succulent,  and  the  wine  ( out  of  princely  vaults,  if  of  ple- 
beian quality)  genial  and  cheering.  Extra  candles  were 
lighted,  and  the  eyes  of  the  bold  beauties  on  the  walls 
brightened  as  they  beheld  the  unusual  festival.  The  hour 
was  late  when  at  last  my  carriage  was  allowed  to  start 
and  the  clocks  of  Gotha  struck  midnight  before  I  reached 
the  city.  But  I  carried  with  me  a  new  picture;  and  if 
you  could  see  it  as  I  now  do,  you  would  not  exchange  it 
for  a  genuine  Claude  Lorraine. 


XXXIV. 

THE   THREE   HUNDREDTH    ANNIVERSARY   OP 
THE    UNIVERSITY   OF   JENA. 

[AUGUST,    1868.] 


In  Europe  the  year  1858  was  distinguished  principally  lor 
the  number  of  civic  and  military  festivals  of  a  national 
character,  which  were  celebrated  in  various  countries. 
Greece  had  her  royal  jubilee ;  Russia,  the  dedication  of 
her  greatest  church ;  Sweden  and  Norway,  their  camp  at 
Axevalla;  Spain,  her  water  celebration  at  Madrid;  and 
France,  her  pompous  show  at  Cherbourg.  In  Germany, 
the  great  event  of  the  year  was  the  celebration  of  the 
three-hundredth  anniversary  of  the  University  of  Jena — 
a  festival  which  possesses  more  than  local  importance, 
through  the  peculiar  history  of  this  University,  and  the 
part  which  its  students  have  taken  in  the  political  move- 
ments of  the  last  half  century.     To  no  institution  of  the 


THE  TTNIVERSITT  OF  JWSfA,  4ll 

kind  in  all  Germany  belongs  such  a  multitude  of  interest- 
ing associations,  and  probably  no  other  circumstance  could 
have  called  together  so  remarkable  an  assemblage  of  per- 
sons as  were  collected  in  the  valley  of  the  Saale  in  August. 
1858. 

Among  the  German  youth  Jena  has  been  for  a  long  time 
the  favorite  University ;  and  if  not  at  present  so  largely 
attended  as  those  of  Heidelberg,  Leipzig,  or  Berlin,  it  has 
lost  none  of  its  ancient  popularity.  It  is  the  seat  of 
liberal  principles,  in  religion  as  well  as  in  politics,  has 
been  often  assailed  as  revolutionary  and  heterodox,  yet 
has  always  steadily  maintained  its  character.  In  song,  in 
the  traditions  of  the  Burschensehaft^  and  in  German  history, 
it  holds  a  proud  pre-eminence ;  and  this  magnetism  con- 
tinues to  draw  into  its  folds,  as  heretofore,  the  best  minds, 
the  most  active,  free,  and  daring  characters  of  each  gene- 
ration. 

Before  I  describe  the  festival,  a  part  of  which  I  saw 
and  was,  let  me  devote  a  little  space  to  an  accoimt  ot 
the  foundation  of  the  University,  and  to  some  of  the 
most  interesting  points  in  its  history.  These  are  not 
only  worthy  of  note  in  themselves,  but  are  necessary  to 
an  understanding  of  all  that  took  place  during  the  cele- 
bration, which  was  especially  of  a  character  to  recall  and 
reanimate  the  past. 

John  Frederick  the  Magnanimous,  Elector  of  Saxony, 
the  friend  of  Luther  and  Melancthon,  was  the  most  faithful 
and  zealous  of  all  the  Protestant  princes.  When,  after 
Luther's  death  m  1546,  Charles  V.  determined  to  crush 
the  Reformation  by  force  of  arms,  he  at  once  put  himself 


412  AT  dOMB  AND  ABSOAD. 

at  the  head  of  the  Protestants.  Deserted  by  his  treacher 
ous  cousin,  Duke  Maurice  of  Saxony,  and  overcome  by  a 
superior  force,  he  was  taken  prisoner,  the  greater  part  of 
his  principality  given  to  the  duke,  and  himself  condemned 
to  death.  The  Emperor,  however,  did  not  dare  to  carry 
this  sentence  into  execution,  but  kept  him  for  five  years  a 
prisoner  in  Austria,  allowing  his  sons  to  retain  a  number 
of  Thftringian  towns.  The  territory  ceded  to  Maurice,  to 
whum  the  title  of  Elector  was  transferred,  comprised  Wit- 
tenberg, whose  university,  founded  by  Frederick  the  Wise, 
was  the  very  hot-bed  of  the  Refonnation. 

The  first  thought  of  John  Frederick  was  to  replace  this 
loss  by  the  establishment  of  a  new  university  in  the 
Thflringian  domain  spared  to  his  sons.  Though  a  prisoner, 
and  so  impoverished  that  he  had  difficulty  in  supporting  a 
small  retinue  of  faithful  followers — ^though  discouraged  even 
by  Melancthon — ^he  resolved  to  found  a  Protestant  school. 
Passing  through  Jena  in  1547,  as  a  captive  in  the  Emperor's 
train,  he  had  an  interview  with  his  sons  in  the  crypt  of  the 
castle  (stiU  existing),  and  secured  their  co-operation.  The 
Dominican  convent  in  Jena  was  selected  for  the  purpose ; 
and  Melancthon,  who  was  then  living  in  Weimar,  was 
appointed  Professor  of  Theology  and  Philosophy.  Ho 
resigned,  however,  before  the  school  opened ;  but  two  of 
his  pupils — one  of  them,  Johann  Stigel,  a  noted  poet  and 
scholar  of  that  time — took  his  place.  The  new  academy 
was  solemnly  inaugurated  in  March,  1648,  in  the  presence 
Df  the  three  young  Dukes,  while  their  father,  the  noble  old 
Elector,  was  still  a  captive  in  Austria.  Students  from  all 
quarters  soon  flocked  to  Jena ;  and  when,  after  the  Treaty 


of  Passau,  John  Frederick,  the  Magnanimous,  was  restored 
to  liberty  and  to  his  dignity  as  reigning  prince,  the  greal 
desire  of  his  heart  was  already  accomplished.  The  chronicles 
of  those  days  describe  his  triumphant  return,  in  September, 
1662 ;  how  he  stopped  for  some  days  to  hunt  in  the  forests 
of  Saal-valley ;  how  he  dined  at  the  Prince's  Spring,  so 
called  to  this  day ;  how  he  entered  Jena  in  the  afternoon, 
received  by  the  authorities,  burghers  on  horse  and  afoot, 
ringing  of  bells,  and  bonfires  in  the  evening ;  and  finally, 
how,  on  reviewing  the  long  ranks  of  students,  he  turned  to 
his  friend  Lucas  Cranach,  the  celebrated  painter,  who  sat 
in  the  carriage  at  his  side,  and  exclaimed,  with  a  laugh  of 
delight :  "  See,  there  is  brother  Studium  /"  The  epithet 
was  taken  up  and  remembered,  and  "Brother  Studium" 
is  yet  a  household  word  in  Jena. 

The  new  school,  however,  had  not  yet  attained  to  the 
dignity  and  the  privileges  of  a  university.  It  was  simply 
an  academy  of  the  higher  class — a  decree  of  the  German 
emperor  being  necessary  to  invest  it  with  the  form« 
character.  John  Frederick  died  in  1554,  but  in  his  last 
will,  he  solemnly  commended  his  sons  to  continue  the  work, 
and  to  spare  no  expense  in  making  it  successful  "  for  the 
glory  of  God  and  the  advancement  of  the  truth."  After 
Ferdinand  I.  had  succeeded  to  the  crown  of  Charles  V.,  the 
young  duke  John  William  made  personal  application  to 
him,  and  obtained  a  conditional  promise  of  bis  consent. 
Johann  Schroter,  of  Vienna,  who  had  been  called  to  Jena 
as  Professor  of  Medicine,  was  sent  to  continue  the  negotia- 
tions ;  and  finally,  on  the  loth  of  August,  1557,  an  imperial 
decree  was  signed,  granting  to  the  Academy  of  Jena  the 


il4  AT  HOME  AMD  ABROAD. 

same  rights,  powers,  and  privileges  as  were  then  enjoyed 
by  the  universities  of  Padua,  Pavia,  Paris,  Leipsic,  etc., 
with  the  remarkable  clause,  that  the  preservation  and  pro- 
pagation of  the  Lutheran  doctrine  was  fully  and  fi-eely 
permitted.  The  university  was  thus  founded  on  a  principle 
of  tolerance  unusual  in  those  days,  and  has  never  yet  for- 
feited its  character. 

On  his  return  from  Vienna  with  the  imperial  charter, 
Schroter  was  received  with  the  honors  due  to  a  conqueror. 
The  students  and  burghers  of  the  town,  with  the  young 
dukes  at  their  head,  went  out  three  miles  to  meet  him,  and 
escorted  him  in  triumph  within  the  gates.  On  the  2d  of 
February,  1558,  the  university  was  inaugurated  with  all 
possible  pomp  and  solemnity — ^the  nobility  of  Thttringia 
taking  part  in  the  procession.  There  is  still  extant  a 
description  of  the  scene,  from  which  we  learn  that  twelve 
mounted  trumpeters  led  the  way,  blowing  joyous  melodies ; 
that  many  suits  of  gilded  armor  and  mantles  of  velvet  were 
jO  be  seen ;  that  the  students,  three  abreast,  reached  from 
St.  John's  Gate  to  the  market-place,  that  the  solemnities 
commenced  with  singing  the  hymn :  "  Come,  holy  Spirit,** 
and  terminated  with  a  princely  joust  in  the  market-place, 
which  had  been  covered  with  sand — ^with  many  other  less 
important  particulars.  The  2d  of  February,  1 858,  was  there- 
fore  in  reality  the  three-hundredth  anniversary;  but  the 
celebration  was  postponed  to  the  15th  of  August  (the  date 
of  the  charter),  on  account  of  the  more  favorable  season^ 
and  of  the  latter  date  being  vacation  time  throughout 
Germany. 
The  history  of  the  past  and  oresent  student  life  in  Jena, 


THB  XTNIVJCUSITT   OF   TESifA.  415 

M  given  in  the  recently  published  work  of  the  Drs.  Keil,  ia 
exceedingly  curious  and  amusing.  A  correct  account  of 
almost  any  single  class  of  indi\'iduals,  continued  through 
three  centuries,  illustrates  the  relative  character  and  spirit 
of  the  tim6,  and  no  class  more  so  than  the  students.  We 
are  theref'>re  not  much  surprised  to  learn  that,  previous  to 
the  Thirty  Years'  War,  the  sons  of  the  Muses  at  Jena 
were  a  most  savage  and  ungovernable  set,  who  fought, 
plundered  vineyards,  stole  chickens,  damaged  houses,  and 
violated  every  one  of  the  Commandments.  In  short,  they 
did  everything  but  study.  The  "  evangelical  Lutheran 
doctrine"  was  propagated  but  indifferently  by  these  roys- 
tering  youths,  whose  great  delight,  next  to  drinking,  was 
to  array  themselves  in  the  enormous  hose  of  the  time  (we 
have  an  account  of  sixty-six  yards  of  silk  being  frequently 
used  for  a  single  paii),  velvet  jacket  and  cap,  and  sword, 
and  thus,  with  throat  bare  and  hair  floating  over  the  shoul- 
ders, to  sally  out  to  the  neighboi-ing  villages,  beat  the 
young  men,  and  seduce  the  girls. 

Wolfgang  Heider,  who  was  professor  in  Jena  at  the  end 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  gives  a  wrathfid  picture  of  the 
student  at  that  time.  The  irate  old  fellow  cannot  find 
words  violent  enough  to  express  his  dislike  of  the  class. 
He  says :  "  He  either  visits  the  public  exercises  not  at  all, 
or  quite  too  seldom ;  he  attends  no  lectures.  Sometimes 
he  listens  before  the  door,  in  nowise  that  he  may  learn  some* 
thing  advantageous,  but  so  that  he  may  pick  up  a  few  phrasen 
and  retail  them  afterwards  among  his  brother  carousere 
imitating  the  voice,  manner,  and  gestures  of  the  professors 
and  creating  laughter.     In  the  morniug,  the  lovely  and 


416  AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

tender  youth  sleeps  until  nine ;  and  thereafter,  where  theie 
remaineth  any  time  before  dinner,  he  employs  it  in  comV 
ing  his  hair,  curling,  adorning,  rubbing,  hunting  vermin, 
and  dressing  the  rum-blossoms  on  his  face.  When  he  hat 
seated  himself  at  the  table  the  beast  devours  but  little  (for 
the  Aiolent  drunkenness  of  yesterday  will  not  permit  i< 
and  because  all  senses  are  stupified.  Nature  will  not  suflfe 
it),  and  he  also  converses  but  little  (for  what  kind  of  civi 
lity  can  dwell  in  such  a  hoggish  body  and  soul  ?).  In  thi 
meantime,  however,  he  shakes  from  himself  a  full  burthei 
of  nonsensical  stupidities  and  disgusting  nastinesses — and 
truly  in  such  wise,  that  as  soon  as  he  opens  his  vile  snout, 
all  boys  and  maidens  run  away,  lest  they  may  be  infected 
by  the  breath  of  the  pestilential  plague."  Enough  of  the 
old  professor,  who  quite  unconsciously  paints  his  own  cha- 
racter at  the  same  time,  and  does  not  damage  his  subject 
quite  so  much  as  he  supposes.  The  students  were  bad 
enough  in  those  days,  as  the  records  of  Jena  testify,  but 
somewhat  is  due  to  the  character  of  the  times.  Study 
and  seclusion  were  still  considered  monkish  ;  and  there 
was  altogether  too  much  restless  blood  in  the  veins  of  the 
race  for  that  system  of  "  oxing"  (a  slang  word  for  "  drudg- 
ery") which  the  German  students  practise  nowadays. 

The  Thirty  Years'  War,  it  appears,  exercised  a  most 
demoralizing  influence  upon  all  the  German  Universitiea 
Dming  that  long  and  bloody  struggle,  all  classes  of  society 
became  more  or  less  brutalized.  Every  city  had  its  garrV 
son ;  the  halls  of  learning  became  barracks  for  the  soldiery, 
and  the  students  adopted  the  lawlessness  of  the  latter  with 
out  their  discipline.    An  old  writer,  Philander  of  Sitten 


THE   UNITERSITT   OF   JENA.  iH 

ftrald,  thus  paints  the  character  of  the  academic  youths  at 
Jena  •  "  They  consider  it  as  boorish  as  a  bear's-hide  to  be 
diligent ;  but  a  sign  of  nobility  to  be  foolish,  fantastic, 
asinine,  loaferish,  and  rowdy."  Even  in  those  days,  Jena 
listinguished  itself  above  all  other  universities  for  the 
lumber  of  duels  daily  perpetrated  there — a  distinction 
which  it  still  enjoys.  A  rhymed  by-word,  which  originated 
then,  is  even  yet  in  circulation : 

"  Who  comes  from  Leipzig  without  a  wife, 
And  from  Halle,  in  body  sound, 
And  from  Jena  without  a  wound — 
He  may  boast  of  a  lucky  life  I" 

During  the  seventeenth  century,  a  practice  called  "  Pen- 
nalism,"  very  similar  to  the  English  custom  of  fagging, 
prevailed.  The  younger  students  were  obliged  to  serve 
the  older  for  the  term  of  one  year,  six  months,  six  weeks,  six 
days,  six  hours,  and  six  minutes.  The  system  was  finally 
broken  up,  no  doubt  to  the  great  improvement  of  the  man- 
ners of  the  students.  The  "  pennals"  were  treated  in  the 
most  abominable  manner  j  obliged  to  give  up  their  new  gar- 
ments to  their  masters  and  go  about  in  rags ;  to  render  them 
all  sorts  of  menial  service,  and  be  beaten  in  acknowledg- 
ment of  it.  They  were  sometimes  forced  to  eat  a  mesa 
composed  of  sausage,  bread,  chopped  nettles,  pounded 
bricks,  ink,  mustard,  butter,  nut-shells,  salt,  and  clay  I 
rhe  students  finally  carried  their  lawlessness  so  far  as  to 
give  out  that  ^ne  of  their  number  was  dead,  and  got  up  a 
grand  funeral,  at  which  the  clergy  and  faculty  officiated: 
but  on  opening  the  coffin  at  the  grave,  as  was  then  customary^ 


418  KJ    HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

it  was  foi'jid  to  contain — a  pickled  herring  1  On  anothei 
occasion,  they  surrounded  the  carriage  of  a  neighboring 
princess,  seized  her  horses  and  guards,  deliberately  turned 
her  Highness's  bonnet  wrong  side  foremost,  and  then  libe* 
rated  her. 

These  wild  proceedings  were,  of  course,  met  by  attempts^ 
on  the  part  of  the  faculty,  to  establish  a  rigid  and  despotic 
discipline,  and  the  collision  between  the  two  extremes  was 
all  the  greater.  Early  in  the  last  century,  however,  a  better 
spirit  began  to  appear.  As  the  proportion  of  educated 
men  increased,  the  desire  for  knowledge  and  the  ability  to 
study  increased  also.  As  the  students  became  more  diligent, 
their  manners  and  morals  improved,  and  the  scandalous 
excesses  of  the  former  century  gradually  disappeared. 
The  influence  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  the  wars 
which  followed,  was  precisely  the  opposite  of  the  Thirty 
Years'  War.  The  thousand  students  of  Jena  displayed  a 
degree  of  frank,  manly  character,  a  conscientious  adher- 
ence to  their  studies,  an  elegance  of  manner,  and  a  refine- 
ment of  dress  and  language,  which  presented  a  most 
remarkable  contrast  to  their  predecessors  of  fifty  years 
before.  In  their  enthusiasm  for  the  Rights  of  Man,  caught 
from  the  millennial  dreams  of  the  early  French  Republicans, 
tlie  brutal  element  melted  away.  The  birth  and  rapid 
growth  of  a  grand  national  literature  also  exercised  a  pow- 
erful efiect  upon  them.  Lessing,  Herder,  and  Klopstock 
had  written  :  Goethe  and  Schiller  were  in  the  prime  of 
youth.  From  this  period  on,  the  German  students  have 
exhibited  a  steady  enthusiasm  for  whatever  is  best  and 
noblest  in  the  national  character.     They  have  kept  alive 


THE  UKIVBKSITY    01   JKNA.  410 

that  spirit  of  enlightened  progress,  which  has  already  bro" 
ken  many  a  rusty  shackle  of  the  Past. 

I  have  not  space  to  follow,  in  detail,  the  later  history  of 
the  University.  There  was  the  famous  "  March  to  Nohra," 
in  1792,  when  they  left  in  a  body,  because  the  government 
endeavored  to  enforce  an  obnoxious  order  by  the  power  of 
the  soldiery;  the  fiery  times  of  1813,  when,  singing  the 
songs  of  Korner,  they  marched  to  battle  for  the  common 
Fatherland  ;  the  establishment  of  the  £urschenschqft,  as  a 
means  of  creating  and  preserving  a  truly  national  spirit 
throughout  Germany;  the  mass  convention  on  the  "Wart- 
burg,  in  1817,  which  made  the  treacherous  princes  tremble 
in  their  shoes ;  and  the  waves  of  sudden  excitement  which 
followed  the  Revolutions  of  1830  and  1848.  AU  these 
associations  are  the  inheritance  of  every  student  who  enters 
Jena.  The  ground  he  treads  is  not  simply  a  quiet  sanctuary 
of  learning ;  it  is  hallowed  in  his  eyes  by  events  which  are 
part  of  the  political  history  of  Germany,  and  not  without 
some  reason  does  he  call  the  place  "  Athens,"  as  he  remem- 
bers the  eloquent  voices  that  have  spoken  for  German  free- 
dom there. 

One  of  the  features  of  the  Three-hundredth  Anniversary 
was  the  inauguration  of  a  bronze  statue  of  John  Frederick 
the  Magnanimous,  by  Drake,  of  Berlin.  The  stout  old  duke 
btands  in  the  centre  of  the  market  square,  with  an  open 
Bible  in  one  hand,  and  a  drawn  sword  in  the  other.  Hif 
&Lce  is  square  and  heavy,  neck  thick,  and  shoulders  broad, 
but  there  is  a  great  deal  of  energy  in  his  firm-set  jaws  and 
bold  brow.  An  interesting  feature  of  the  inauguration  wai 
the  singing,  by  a  full  choir,  of  the  famous  "  Hymn  of  Con 


420  AT  HOMS  JlSJ)  ABROAD. 

solation,"  composed  by  John  Frederick  himself,  when  a 
captive  in  Austria.  As  a  specimen  of  the  sturdy,  downright 
language  of  the  times — of  the  dialect  whose  words  were 
more  potent  than  cannon-balls,  in  the  mouth  of  Luth»»r,  1 
translate  a  few  stanzas  of  it : 

As't  pleases  Qod,  so  it  pleases  me: 

Nor  am  I  led  astray, 
Though  biting  smoke  confound  mine  eje^ 
And  though  along  my  way 

All  is  obscure, 

Yet  I  am  sure 
That  God  doth  clearly  iee  it: 

As  He  may  send, 

So  must  it  end : 
If  H  must  be,  then,  so  be  it: 

Ai't  pleases  Grod,  I  am  content, 

I  care  not  for  the  rest; 
What's  not  to  be,  why,  let  it  go— 
The  obedient  heart  is  blest. 

Although  my  mind 

Be  scarce  resigned, 
His  grace  will  grant  assistance: 

I  firmly  trust — 

What  must  be^  must ; 
^GhLinst  God  there's  no  resistuMA. 

As't  pleases  God,  so  let  it  pass: 

The  birds  may  take  my  soirow 
If  fortune  shuns  my  house  to-day, 
m  wait  until  to-morrow. 
The  goods  I  have 
I  still  shall  MTt^ 


THE  ITNIVBESrrY   OF  JSNA.  421 

Or,  if  some  part  forsake  me, 

Thank  God,  who's  just, 

What  must  be,  must ; 
Good  luck  maj  still  o'ertake  ma 

Aflt  pleases  Gkxl,  to  I  accept. 
For  patience  only  pray ; 
Tis  He  alone,  whose  arm  can  help- 
Can  reach  me,  though  I  lay 
In  anguish  sore, 
At  Death's  dark  door: 
There's  rescue  for  the  sinner  I 
I  am  but  dust  : 
What  must  be,  must; 
So  be  it — still  I'm  winner  I 


The  15th  of  August,  1858,  fell  upon  Sunday,  on  which 
day  it  was  not  possible  for  me  to  be  present ;  but  as  the 
celebration  lasted  three  days,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  witness- 
ing what,  to  me,  were  its  most  interesting  features. 
Leaving  Gotha  early  on  Monday  morning,  I  quitted  the 
railroad  at  Apolda,  a  large  manufacturing  town  on  the 
Saale,  nine  miles  from  Jena.  It  was  well,  perhaps,  that  I 
had  not  arrived  on  the  preceding  day.  The  influx  of  eight 
thousand  visitors  into  the  little  town  had  quite  exhausted 
the  means  of  transportation  and  the  sleeping  accommoda- 
tions. Every  vehicle  in  the  country,  from  the  baronial 
eal^che  to  the  peasant's  dung-cart,  was  in  requisition ;  and 
in  all  the  villages,  for  miles  around,  every  beJ  and  hayloA 
had  been  bespoken  weeks  before. 


48S  AT  noMB  Ain>  abboab. 

Bj  good  luck  we  obtained  seats  in  a  sort  of  extenipor* 
neous  omnibus,  and  were  among  the  first  departures.  The 
long  street  of  Apolda,  down  which  we  drove,  wore  the 
gayest  festival  dress.  From  every  house  floated  long 
streamers,  bearing  the  colors  of  the  German  States  and  of 
the  students'  societies — conspicuous  among  them  the  red, 
black,  and  gold  of  the  old  German  Empire,  the  blue  and 
white  of  Saxony,  and  the  blue,  yellow,  and  white  of  Saxe- 
Weimar.  The  beer-houses,  freshly  sanded  and  decked 
with  green  boughs,  were  wide  open  to  the  day,  and  a  vision 
of  brown  mugs  crowned  with  foam  continually  flitted  past 
the  windows.  Emerging  from  the  town,  we  slowly  climbed 
to  the  high,  undulating  upland,  where,  fifty-one  years 
before,  the  power  of  Prussia  was  crushed  at  a  single  blow. 
Far  as  we  could  see,  the  harvest-fields  were  deserted ;  the 
golden  wheat  waved  idly  in  the  hot  wind ;  over  leagues  of 
landscape  labor  had  ceased.    It  was  a  universal  holiday. 

Our  progress,  slow  enough  at  best,  from  the  load  we 
carried,  was  rendered  still  more  so  by  our  impatience ;  but 
the  upland  was  crossed  at  last,  and  we  rapidly  descended 
into  the  valley  of  the  Saale.  On  our  left  rose  a  huge 
wooden  cross,  on  the  summit  of  a  precipitous  rock,  whence 
Luther,  it  is  said,  once  preached  to  the  multitude.  Plea- 
sant cottages  began  to  appear,  then  scattering  beer-gar- 
dens, and  finally,  a  triumphal  arch  of  fir  and  oak  welcomed 
OS  to  the  rejoicing  Jena.  The  town  lies  in  a  deep  basin,  at 
the  intersection  of  three  valleys,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by 
high,  dry,  bare-washed  hills,  which  produce  an  excellent 
red  wine.  The  .Teuavese  boast  of  the  resemblance  of  the 
landscape  to  that  which  siirrounds  Athens ;  but  I  could  not 


THE   UNTVERSITY    OF   TESA.  42S 

datter  them  by  finding  it  out.  In  front  of  us,  it  is  true, 
there  was  a  single  conical  peak  which  might  answer  for 
Mount  Lycabettus ;  but  where  was  the  Acropolis  ? — where 
Pentelicus  ? — where  the  ^gean  and  its  isles  ? 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  a  dignified  old  gentleman  in  black, 
who  sat  beside  me,  "  there  is  the  Hausberg !  there  is  the 
Fox-tower  I  Yonder  is  Ziegenhain,  under  the  woods — do 
you  see?  And  there  goes  the  path  to  Lichtenhain!  I 
wonder  if  the  beer  is  still  as  good  as  ever  I"  Behind  ua 
somebody  sang  the  old  song,  familiar  to  all  Jena  students : 

"  On  the  mountaina  the  castlee^ 
In  the  valley  the  Saale, 
In  the  city  tho  maidena; 

The  same  as  before : 
Ye  dear  old  companions, 
Where  wait  ye  my  coming  T 
Alas  I  ye  are  scattered 
The  wide  world  all  o'er  I" 

I  looked  around  on  the  wonderfully  picturesque  forms  of 
the  mountains,  which  inframe  the  valley-basin.  The  Fox 
tower  stood  against  the  sky,  on  its  lofty  ridge ;  the  Kunitz- 
burg  rose  blue  in  the  distance,  and  many  a  fair  village  lay 
nestled  in  the  heart  of  the  green  dells.  Bright  and  beauti- 
ful as  they  appeared  to  me,  basking  in  sunshine,  gay  with 
banners,  and  ringing  with  jubilant  music,  there  was  a  tone 
of  sadness  in  the  landscape  for  the  gray-heads  around  me, 
and  their  eyes  grew  suddenly  dim. 

I  felt  that  I  had  no  right  to  witness  their  emotion,  and 
turned  my  eyes  upon  the  city.     There  was  a  flapping  of 


424  AT  HOMB  AKD  ABROAD. 

flags  in  the  wind :  a  bee-like  hum  of  music  gradoally  filled 
the  air,  and  the  quaint  old  gabled  dwellings,  buried  up  to 
their  roof-tiles  in  garlands,  seemed  to  sway  hither  and 
thither  as  their  drapery  was  moved.  Thick  wreaths  of 
oak  leaves,  studded  with  the  scarlet  berries  of  the  mjountain 
ash,  hung  fi-om  window  to  window;  young  firs,  dug  up 
bodily,  were  planted  at  the  doors,  and  long  streamers  of 
gay  colors  floated  from  the  eaves.  In  all  Jena,  there  was 
not  a  house  or  building  of  any  description  without  its  deco- 
ration of  flags  and  garlands.  The  windows  were  open  and 
full  of  bright  faces,  the  streets  crowded  with  student-caps 
of  every  hue,  even  the  old  graduates  wearing  the  colors  of 
their  youth,  and  our  progress  was  continually  impeded  by 
rollicking  companies,  singing  ^'^  gaudeamua  igitur^'*  or  some 
other  classic  melody. 

But  most  impressive  of  all  was  the  sight  of  the  recogni- 
tions of  old  friends.  The  gray-heads  in  the  omnibus  were 
continually  shouting:  "Karl,  is  it  thou?"  "God  bless 
me,  there  is  Hardenberg!"  "Ah !  brother  Fritz,  art  thou 
here,  too  ?" — while,  more  than  once,  as  we  passed  onwards, 
I  saw  men  stop,  stare  doubtfully  at  each  other,  and  then 
open  their  arms  for  a  glad  embrace.  "Ah!"  thought  I, 
"it  will  be  the  merest  chance  if  I  find  any  one  of  my  friends 
in  this  crowd."  But  as  we  drove  into  the  market-square, 
where  John  Frederick  the  Magnanimous  stood  resplendent 
in  new  bronze,  my  name  was  suddenly  shouted,  and  a 
powerful  but  friendly  arm  pulled  me  down  from  the  omni- 
bus. "  Andree !"  I  exclaimed,  for  it  was  really  that  distin- 
guished geographer.  "To-day's  procession  is  over,"  said 
bA,  "but  come  into  'The  Son'  and  drink  a  m<2/ of  beer, 


THE   UTflVEKSrrY   OF  JEHA..  42P 

and  then  we  will  go  to  dinner  in  the  Deutschen  £toJ\  where 
there  are  many  people  whom  you  will  like  to  know." 

So  said,  so  done*,  but  the  way  into  "The  Sun"  was 
blocked  by  a  crowd  of  young  students,  gathered  about  an 
aged  man,  cheering,  shaking  his  hand,  and  talking  all  toge- 
ther with  a  singular  enthusiasm.  "  Who  is  it  ?"  we  asked. 
"  Have  you  not  seen  him  before  ?"  answered  a  young  fel- 
low :  "  it  is ,  from  Holstein.    Look  at  his  hat — dass  of 

17891  He  heard  Schiller's  introductory  as  Professor  of 
History,  and  took  part  in  the  March  to  Nohra  I  His  son 
and  grandson  are  both  graduates  of  Jena,  and  are  here 
with  him !"  What  an  unwonted  light  there  was  in  the  old 
man's  eyes !  How  he  joined,  with  cracked  voice,  as,  form- 
ing a  circle  around  him,  they  sang  the  stirring  "  Schleswig- 
Holstein,  sea-surrounded,"  the  Marseillaise  of  the  Baltic 
shore ! 

One  could  not  be  ten  minutes  in  such  an  atmosphere, 
without  feeling  its  contagion.  The  pulse  beats  quicker, 
the  blood  runs  warmer,  the  eyes  brighten,  and  the  frame 
seems  to  dilate,  as  if  you  felt 

"  the  thews  of  Anakim, 

The  pulses  of  a  Titan's  heart." 

Soon  your  lungs  become  accustomed  to  the  oxygen  of  the 
popular  excitement,  and  you  live  a  faster,  freer,  more 
exalted  life.  It  is  an  intoxication  which  no  earthly  vintage 
can  produce ;  and  the  man  who  can  or  would  desire  to 
withstand  it,  deserves  that  his  name  should  never  make  a 
single  human  heart  throb  the  faster. 
On  the  way  to  dinner  we  passed  the  Univeraty  BnUd 


426  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAS. 

ings,  including  the  old  Dominican  Convent  wherein  the 
institution  was  first  founded.  As  we  were  looking  at  the 
window  of  the  Career^  where  refractory  students  are 
imprisoned,  an  old  man,  who  was  surveying  the  ground, 
ihook  his  head,  saying :  "  Ah !  there  are  great  changes 
I  ere.  Everything  is  ruined — ruined.  Once  there  was  a 
deop  moat  under  the  career  window.  We  could  hide  there 
at  night,  and  when  our  friends  above  let  down  strings,  we 
sent  them  up  seidls  of  beer  and  pipes  of  tobacco.  It  is 
filled  up — you  couldn't  do  it  now.  This  they  call  Progress 
-  Civilization  1 "  he  added  scornfully,  turning  away  from 
us.  In  the  dining-hall  I  found  many  characters  renowned 
in  the  annals  of  the  Burschenschaft.  There  was  Karl 
Horn,  of  Mecklenberg,  the  founder  of  the  Society,  who, 
on  the  19th  of  January,  1816,  when  the  students  solemnly 
celebrated  the  Peace  of  Paris  and  the  Liberation  of  Grer- 
many,  planted  an  oak  tree  in  the  square  where  the  French 
had  encamped  ten  years  before — a  tree  dedicated  to 
German  Freedom  and  German  Unity,  which  is  still  flou- 
rishing, and  held  as  sacred  as  was  ever  any  oak  of  the 
Druid  groves.  There  was  Hase,  Member  of  the  French 
Academy,  who  had  come  from  Paris  to  attend  the  cele- 
bration, Brockhaus  of  Leipzig,  and  many  other  men  of 
note. 

A  rosy-cheeked,  white-headed  old  gentleman  sat  opposite* 
to  me  at  the  table.  I  discovered,  ere  long,  that  he  was 
Dr.  Vogel,  father  of  the  lost  African  traveller  The  latter, 
it  will  1)0  remembered,  reached  Wara,  the  capital  of 
Waday,  in  1856,  whence  came,  shortly  afterwards,  a 
report   that  he  \2A  been  beheaded  by  order  of  the  Su) 


THE   UNIVKESITY    OF   JENA.  427 

tan.  Since  then,  nothing  further  has  been  heard  from 
him,  and  it  seems  now  but  too  certain  that  his  name  must 
be  added  to  the  list  of  those  heroes  who  have  fallen  on  the 
great  geographical  battlefield  of  Africa.  His  father,  how 
ever,  assured  me  that  he  still  has  hope  that  his  son  is  onl  v 
kept  a  close  prisoner  in  Waday,  and  that,  if  he  lives,  ht 
may  yet  find  means  of  escape.  I  could  not  give  him  any 
encouragement  for  this  belief  although  Dr.  Barth  had 
fsLYored  it. 

In  the  afternoon  the  visitors  betook  themselves  to  the 
summer  resorts  of  their  fevorite  societies,  in  the  villages 
round  about.  The  Thtlringians  marched  out  to  Lichten 
haiu,  where  my  friend  Ziegler  reigned  as  Thus  XLVll., 
clad  in  coronet  and  ducal  robes,  with  his  ministers,  min- 
strels, and  jesters.  The  Franconians  went  off  up  the 
valley  of  the  Saale,  the  Gerraanians  and  members  of  the 
old  Burschenschaft  to  Ziegenhain ;  while  others,  deterred 
by  the  heat,  remained  in  the  city  to  drink  the  cool  brewage 
of  the  "Burgkeller"  and  the  "Rose."  We  fell  in,  bj 
chance,  with  the  Franconians,  among  whom  we  foimd  two 
acquaintances,  but  as  their  rendezvous  did  not  promise 
much  amusement,  we  set  off  over  the  mountain  to  Ziegen 
hain.  It  was  a  terrible  job  to  climb  the  height,  with  th< 
afternoon  sun  beating  upon  our  backs,  but  we  were  well 
repaid  by  the  superb  view  from  the  summit.  Jena  lay  at 
our  feet,  wrapped  in  wreaths  and  banners,  and  the  sound 
of  her  rejoicing  came  up  to  us  in  a  faint,  melodioua 
murmur.  In  a  deep  dell  on  the  right  was  Ziegenhain, 
with  the  lofty  gray  square  of  the  Fox-tower  crowning  th« 
height  beyond  it. 


428  AT  HOMB   AND  ABBOAS. 

The  hoases  of  the  village  were  deserted,  and  we  were  at 
a  loss  which  way  to  turn,  when  a  prolonged  shout  rose  from 
among  the  trees  below.  Here  some  hundreds  were  assem 
bled,  in  a  close  beer-garden,  shaded  with  vines,  and  half-« 
dozen  barrels  on  tap  outside.  Politics  was  the  order  of  the 
Jay,  and  opinions  were  uttered  with  an  eloquence  and  a 
boldness  which  astonished  me.  The  old  blood  of  181 7 
awoke  again  in  the  slug^h  veins  of  the  gray-headed 
BurscJien^  and  the  sentiment  "One  Parliament  for  Ger- 
many, and  above  the  German  Princes  I "  was  received  with 
a  storm  of  cheers.  When  the  sun  set,  they  began  to  return. 
I  fell  into  the  long  procession  beside  a  clergyman  from 
Holstein,  and  thus,  singing  the  gaudeamua^  we  marched 
back  the  three  miles,  and  disbanded  before  the  statue  of 
John  Frederick. 

In  the  evening  there  was  a  grand  hneipe  in  the  Prince's 
Cellar.  The  halls  were  crowded  to  suffocation,  as  the  men 
of  1813  and  1817  were  to  be  present.  The  songs,  by  five 
hundred  voices,  were  grand  and  stirring  beyond  all  de- 
scription. Horn,  after  a  speech  wherein  he  described  the 
planting  of  the  sacred  Oak,  called  for  a  song  of  Ernst 
Moritz  Arndt,  which  was  sung  on  the  Wartburg,  *oon  after 
bne  Burschenschaft  was  founded : 

"  In  happy  hour  have  we  onited, 

A  mighty  and  a  German  band, 
Our  souls,  to  truth  and  honor  plighted, 

From  earnest  lips  a  prayer  command ; 
For  solemn  duties  we  assemble, 

In  high  and  holy  feeling  bound, 
So  let  our  breasts  responsive  trem'ble 

Oar  harps  give  out  their  fullest  sound  I" 


THE  UNIVBESITY  OF  JJOTA.  429 

On  these  occasions  the  affectionate  and  confidential  Du 
(thou)  was  altogether  in  use.  Stately  diplomatists  and 
reverend  doctors  of  divinity  hailed  as  brothers  the  wold, 
young  generation  of  students,  who,  with  long  hair,  bared 
throats,  and  ribbons  of  black,  red,  and  gold,  darted  hither 
ftnd  thither.  "  Brother,"  said  one  of  these  fellows  to  me, 
ao  I  leaned  against  the  wall,  "  canst  thou  find  no  place  ? 
where  is  thy  beer  ?  Ha !  take  this  seidl.  Strike — ^hurrah 
for  Jena ! " 

Towards  midnight  it  suddenly  occurred  to  us,  that  we  had 
made  no  provision  whatever  for  our  lodgings.  The  night 
was  warm  and  balmy,  but  our  aching  bones  coveted  an 
easier  bed  than  the  paving-stones.  Hurrying  back  to  "  The 
Sun,"  we  succeeded  with  great  diflSculty  in  catching  a 
waiter  and  holding  him  fast.  "  Can  you  give  us  beds  ?  " 
The  question,  coming  at  such  a  time,  struck  him  dumb. 
"  Beds !  there  is  no  bed  to  be  had  in  Jena."  "  Is  there  a 
hay-loft  ?"  "  Yes."  "  Then,"  said  I,  "  reserve  twenty-four 
square  feet,  and  send  me  the  groom  immediately !"  The 
man  departed :  presently  I  saw  him  in  communication  with 
the  head-waiter,  and  my  surprise  may  be  guessed  when  the 
latter  came  up  and  said;  "If  the  gentlemen  will  not  object 
to  sleeping  in  a  room  through  which  two  other  guests  must 
pass,  I  can  furnish  them  with  beds."  I  took  out  my  purse 
and  ofifered  to  pay  for  them  in  advance,  saying :  "  We  have 
no  baggage,  as  you  see,  and  could  therefore  easily  slip  off 
in  the  morning."  His  eyes  opened  wide.  "What  an 
idea!"  he  exclaimed;  "I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing!" 
The  next  morning,  two  of  my  friends  inquired  for  "the 
Americans."     "They   are  no  Americans,"  stud  he;  "I*v« 


430  AT  H03IE  AND  ABROAD. 

been  in  America  myself,  and  can  tell  one  when  I  see  him. 
Don't  let  these  people  deceive  you,  if  they  say  they  cam* 
from  there !" 

At  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  the  grand  commemorative 
procession  was  repeated  for  the  third  and  last  time,  in  the 
same  order  as  on  the  previous  days.  Two  features  in  it 
particularly  interested  me — the  student-marshals,  in  theii 
picturesque  costume  of  the  Middle  Ages  (slashed  black 
velvet  doublet,  hose,  hat,  plume,  and  sword),  and  the  Faculty 
of  the  University,  in  their  heavy  gowns  of  blue,  green  and 
purple  velvet,  and  plain,  round  caps  of  the  same  material. 
Some  of  the  latter  wore  gold  chains,  and  other  ancient 
badges  of  their  office.  Conspicuous  in  the  procession  were 
the  various  deputations  of  students  from  other  Universities, 
distinguished  by  the  different  colors  of  their  scarfs,  and  the 
feathers  in  their  mediaeval  caps.  The  Prime  Ministers  of 
the  Duchies  of  Saxe- Weimar,  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  Saxe- 
Altenburg,  and  Meiningen — which  lands  are  the  joint  pro- 
tectors (nutritores)  of  the  University — had  also  their  place, 
and  glittered  gorgeously  in  their  State  uniforms.  On  this 
day  the  honorary  degrees  were  conferred,  in  Latin  speeches 
of  astounding  and  insupportable  length.  This  is  the  great 
fault,  on  all  occasions  of  the  kind,  in  Germany.  Whatever 
speaking  there  is,  is  sure  to  run  into  the  abstract  and  prolix. 
Nothing  is  short,  clear,  practical,  to  the  purpose:  every 
fact  stated  represents  a  long  chain  of  ideas  and  principles, 
which  must  be  elucidated;  and  so  true  eloquence  is  the 
rarest  of  treats. 

I  had  not  the  patience  to  sit  in  the  church  and  hear  th* 
olattdoal  pumping,  but  prepared  myself  for  the  aftemoon'a 


THB  imiVERSITT   OP  JTESA.  431 

work  by  a  swim  in  the  cold  waters  of  Saale.  This,  being 
the  last  of  the  three  days,  was  to  be  closed  by  a  Commere 
(which  is  a  beer-and-tobacco  festival,  mass  meeting,  student- 
initiation,  and  much  more,  all  in  one),  on  the  grandest 
scale,  at  the  expense  of  the  city.  A  large  space  in  the 
beautiful  public  meadow  adjoining  the  town,  called  "The 
Paradise,"  was  inclosed  by  a  lofty  hedge  of  woven  fir 
boughs,  in  the  centre  of  which  stood  a  hall  300  feet  long 
by  150  broad,  with  a  roof  of  fir-thatch,  resting  on  pillars 
muffled  in  oak  leaves.  There  were  seats  at  the  narrow 
tables  in  this  hall,  and  in  the  space  arotind  it,  for  nearly 
four  thousand  persons.  The  meadow  was  shaded  by  mag- 
nificent elm  and  linden  trees,  through  the  trunks  of  which 
gleamed  the  blue  waters  of  the  river. 

At  three  o'clock  a  steady  stream  poured  into  the  inclo- 
sure.  A  grand  orchestra  occupied  a  lofty  balcony  in  the 
centre  of  the  hall,  opposite  to  which  was  a  tribune  for 
speakers.  In  less  than  an  hour  nearly  every  seat  was  filled, 
while  a  great  number  of  curious  "  outsiders,"  ladies  princi- 
pally, moved  up  and  down  the  avenues  between.  After 
the  commencement  of  the  ceremonies,  they  were  necessarily 
excluded,  but  gradually  gathered  on  the  outside  of  the  fir 
barricade,  over  the  dark-green  wall  of  which  they  formed  a 
second  hedge  of  beauty  and  of  brilliant  color.  I  had  seated 
nyself  in  a  quiet  spot,  contented  to  remain  a  looker-on,  but 
was  suddenly  seized  upon  by  the  daughter  of  Germany's 
greatest  living  poet,  who  begged  my  escort  through  the 
multitude.  By  this  chauce  I  was  thrown  into  the  company 
of  several  Thtiringian  fi'iends,  and  agreeably  installed  at 
one  of  the  tables  of  the  Saxoos,  outside  of  the  halL 


482  AT  HOMB  AND  ABROAD, 

Presently  shouts  and  music  announced  the  ariival  of  the 
Grand  Duke,  Karl  August  11.,  whose  duty  it  was,  as  Hector 
magnificentissimus  of  the  University,  to  open  the  Commers. 
Accompanied  by  the  hereditary  prince,  he  mounted  th 
tribune,  made  a  few  appropriate  remarks,  and  drank  pros 
perity  to  the  institution  in  a  huge  glass  of  beer.  A  trumpet 
then  gave  the  signal,  and  the  first  song,  pealing  simultane- 
ously from  three  thousand  voices,  buried  us  in  its  magnifi 
cent  surges.  Enormous  casks  of  beer — ^the  ^ft  of  the  citj 
— ^rolled  one  after  another  into  the  inclosure,  stopping  at 
the  headquarters  of  the  various  societies,  where  they  were 
instantly  placed  upon  tap.  Pipes  and  cigars  were  lighted, 
and  the  Commers  was  soon  in  full  blast. 

At  the  head  of  each  table  sat  a  President,  in  the  old 
German  costume,  with  crossed  swords  before  him.  As  the 
festival  became  more  unrestrained  and  jolly,  the  strict 
arrangement  of  the  societies  was  broken  up ;  old  friends 
sought  each  other,  and  groups  were  formed  by  mutual 
attraction.  I  found  myself  near  the  traveller,  Ziegler,  and 
opposite  the  younger  Brockhaus ;  on  one  side  of  me  was  a 
Thtlringian  editor,  on  the  other  Dr.  Alfred  Brehm,  whose 
ornithological  studies  had  carried  him  to  Abyssinia  and  the 
White  Nile.  To  us  came  afterwards  Fritz  Renter,  a  noted 
Low-German  humorous  poet,  whose  heavy  round  face  and 
Saxon  beard  suggested  Hans  Sachs.  A  stream  from  the 
Thflringian  cask  flowed  upon  our  board,  and  the  fresh 
acquaintances,  dipped  into  the  brown  flood,  were  aa 
thoroughly  seasoned  in  ten  minutes  as  in  months  of  ordi- 
nary intercourse.  Flood  after  flood  of  the  mighty  sea  of 
•ong  overwhelmed,  us,  but  in  the  intervals  we  wandered 


THE   UNIYfiliSITY   OF   JISNA.  433 

over  the  world,  and  through  the  realms  of  Literature  and 
Art.  We  clashed  glasses  with  the  publisher,  and  with 
Bome  venerable  professors  who  flanked  him ;  Fritz  Renter 
plied  us  from  the  inexhaustible  resources  of  his  fun ;  and 
finally  Brehm  and  I,  exchanging  recollections  of  Soudan 
feD  into  Arabic,  to  the  great  edification  of  the  others.  1 
had  not  spoken  the  language  for  five  years,  and  at  first  my 
tongue  moved  but  awkwardly :  then,  as  if  the  juice  of  Ger- 
man barley  were  an  "  open  sesame  I"  to  the  oriental  guttu- 
rals, the  words  came  fast  and  free.  The  green  turf  undei 
our  feet  became  burning  desert  sand,  and  the  lindens  of 
the  Saale  were  changed  into  tufted  palms. 

The  sun  sank,  but  it  was  not  missed.  A  mellow  glow  of 
inner  sunshine  overspread  the  festival — the  hearty,  genuine 
merriment  of  four  thousand  hearts.  And  still  the  beer 
flowed,  and  still  the  glasses  clashed  like  the  meeting  sabres 
of  hostile  armies,  and  the  hedge  of  beautiful  faces  looked 
over  the  fir  wall.  As  the  stars  began  to  twinkle,  the  white 
and  red  glare  of  pyrotechnic  fires  streamed  over  us ; 
rockets  burst  into  meteoric  rain  far  above,  and  bonfires 
were  lighted  on  all  the  hills.  Then  came  the  Landsfather, 
or  "  Consecration  Song,"  with  its  solemn  ceremonial  of 
pierced  hats,  clashing  swords,  and  vows  of  honor  and 
fidelity.  On  account  of  the  immense  number  present,  it 
lasted  nearly  an  hour,  though  the  orchestra  so  timed  the 
performance  that  at  every  one  of  the  hundreds  of  tables 
the  same  stage  of  the  consecration  might  be  witnessed.  A 
more  impressive  scene  could  scarcely  be  imagined. 

Finally,  the  discharge  of  a  cannon  mid  the  flight  of  a 
fttorm  of  rockets  announced  the  termination  of  the  jubilee. 


434  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

Although  the  Gammers  was  prolonged  until  after  mid 
night.  For  two  or  three  days  afterwards,  however,  there 
were  festivals  of  the  societies  in  all  the  neighboring  vil- 
lages, and  the  three  or  four  thousand  guests  who  departed 
on  the  18th  were  scarcely  missed,  so  great  was  the  crowd 
that  remained.  Before  leaving,  I  again  made  the  round  of 
the  city,  in  order  to  view  the  residences  of  the  distin- 
guished men  who  have,  at  different  times,  made  their 
homes  there.  Every  house  where  a  great  man  had  resided 
bore  a  shield,  inscribed  with  his  name  and  the  date  of  his 
visit.  The  popularity  of  the  University  may  be  judged 
from  the  fact  that  there  were  nearly  three  hundred  of  these 
shields.    I  will  give  some  of  the  most  notable : 

Andt,  1194.  MelancthoD,  1627-1686. 

Blumenbach,  1710.  Musseos,  1154. 

Bichhom,  1775-1788.  Oken,  1805-1819. 

Rchte,  1794-1799.  Puflfendor^  1666. 

Charles  Folleo,  1818-1819.  Ruckert,  1811. 

Goethe.  Schelling,  1798. 

Hegel,  1801-1807.  Schiller,  1789  1799. 

Wilhelm  von  Humboldt,  1197.  Schlegel,  1798-1802. 

Alexander  von  Humboldt,  1791.  Schubert,  1801. 

Klopstock,  1745.  Tieck,  1799. 

Kotzebue,  1779-1781.  Voss,  1802-1805. 

Leibnitz,  1662.  De  Wette,  1805. 

Martin  Luther,  1622.  Winkebnann,  1741. 
Gount  Zinzendorf;  1728. 

On  the  following  afternoon  we  bade  adieu  to  Jena,  fbotf 
ing  it  back  over  the  uplands  to  Apolda.  The  garlands  of 
oak  leaves  were  a  little  withered,  bat  the  scarlet  asb 


THB  UNTVERSrrT   OF  JENA.  435 

berries  still  gleamed  splendidly  on  the  panels  of  the  tri* 
amphal  arches,  and  the  multitude  of  banners  waved  as 
gaily  as  ever  in  the  wind.  The  faces  of  the  townspeople 
were  bright  and  joyous,  with  no  signs  of  lassitude  and 
exhaustion ;  and  we  left  them,  not  glad  that  the  festival 
was  over  (as  one  usually  is,  after  such  an  excitement),  but 
regretting  that  we  could  not  participate  in  it  until  the  last 
song  should  be  sung.  From  beginning  to  end,  I  did  not 
hear  one  unfriendly  word  spoken,  nor  did  I  see  one  man 
completely  intoxicated,  although,  of  course,  there  were 
many  who  were  tiushed  and  gaily  excited.  It  was,  in  the 
best  sense  of  the  word,  SkjvMleef  and  as  sach,  the  only  one 
[  ever  beheld. 


XXXV. 

SOME  ENGLISH    CELEBRITIES. 


DuKiNG  a  visit  to  London  in  September,  1851,  I  spent  ten 
days  in  the  same  house  with  Robert  Owen,  the  great 
Socialist,  whose  recent  death  has  recalled  public  attention 
to  his  life  and  labors.  He  was  then  nearly  eighty  years  old, 
but  as  bright,  gay,  cheerful,  and  hopeful  as  a  young  man. 
Even  then,  after  so  many  failures  and  disappointments,  hia 
confidence  in  the  speedy  success  of  his  plans  was  unbounded. 
In  fact,  when  you  looked  upon  the  mild,  benevolent  brow, 
the  clear  bluish-gray  eye,  and  the  persuasive  mouth  of  the 
old  man,  it  was  difficult  to  call  him  away  from  his  sunny 
theories  to  the  hard,  conflicting  facts  which  arose  in  your 
mind.  But  he  would  not  be  called  away :  his  hope  oveit 
flowed  everything,  and  your  arguments  lay  buried  a  thoTi 
sand  £ithoms  deep  under  his  gorgeous  promises  for  the 
future.    In  this  respect,  he  was  almost  a  phenomenon. 

"  Why,"  he  would  exclaim,  "  you  have  only  to  let  man- 
kind know  what  the  right  plan  of  Government,  the  trae 


SOME  BNOLISH   CELBBSmSS.  487 

organization  of  Society,  is,  and  they  cannot  reject  it.  Let 
me  have  the  control  of  the  newspapers  of  Europe,  for  two 
years  only,  and  all  the  despotisms  will  be  peaceftdly  over 
Uirown,  war  will  be  made  impossible,  labor  will  be  properlj 
rewarded,  and  the  suffering  nations  will  be  happy  1 "  As  I 
was  connected  with  a  newspaper,  he  at  once  commenced 
the  great  work,  by  sending  me  a  large  package  of  his 
pamphlets  the  next  morning.  It  was  rather  embarrassing 
to  me,  thenceforth,  to  be  asked  every  day  at  dinner: 
"  Well,  are  you  not  now  convinced  ?  Is  it  not  as  clear  as 
the  sun  ?  "  when  I  had  found  no  time  to  read  the  bulky 
documents. 

Mr.  Owen  believed  that  he  had  made  a  great  impression 
on  Prince  Metternich,  from  the  extreme  politeness  with 
which  that  most  courteous  of  statesmen  had  received  him.  I 
could  easily  fancy  the  cold,  elegant,  silver-voiced  Prince 
saying:  "Quite  true:  your  arguments  are  indeed  unaii« 
swerable,"  at  every  pause  in  his  visitor's  enthusiastic  state- 
ment. The  latter  described  to  me  his  final  interview.  "  I 
proposed, "  said  he,  "  to  establish  the  reign  of  Love,  and 
Justice,  and  Humanity,  and  demonstrated  how  immensely 
every  country  must  prosper  under  such  a  rule.  '  At  present,' 
said  I,  '  every  Government  in  Europe  is  supported  by  two 
powers — ^Force  and  Fraud  I '  The  Secretaries  who  were 
present  at  the  interview  turned  suddenly  from  their  desks 
and  stared  at  me,  astonished  at  what  they  considered  my 
audacity.  The  Prince  noticed  this,  and  very  quietly  said : 
*Do  not  be  surprised,  gentlemen:  what  Mr.  Owen  has 
stated  is  perfectly  true.'  Ah,  what  loight  he  not  have  done, 
if  he  had  acted  according  to  his  knowledge  of  the  truth  1 " 


438  AT  HO&LE  AND   ABBOAD. 

A  year  later  I  was  in  London  again,  preparing  for  iht 
overland  journey  to  India.  In  the  dull,  drizzly  Octobei 
weather,  the  great  capital  was  awaiting  the  funeral  of  Wel- 
lington, and  my  recollections  of  my  visit  are  brightened 
only  by  three  interesting  interviews.  The  first  of  thest 
was  with  Kossuth,  who  was  living  in  a  very  quiei  and 
unostentatious  way  in  Kensington.  I  had  been  absent 
from  America  during  his  triumphal  visit,  from  the  fatigues 
of  which  he  had  not  entii'ely  recovered.  His  air  was  seri 
ous,  if  not  sad,  though  he  still  spoke  of  Hungary  with  a 
desperate  hope. 

Mazzini,  who,  though  proscribed  and  exiled,  was  the 
terror  of  Italian  despots,  was  then  residing  in  Chelsea,  not 
fer  from  Kossuth's  residence.  My  friend,  James  Russell 
Lowell,  had  occasion  to  call  upon  him  on  some  business  of 
a  purely  literary  nature,  and  I  accompanied  him.  Entering 
the  dark  little  brick  house  to  which  we  had  been  directed, 
we  were  ushered  into  a  narrow  sitting-room,  where  we 
were  presently  visited  by  an  Italian  secretary.  We  were 
questioned  rather  closely  as  to  our  object,  for  it  was  known 
that  there  were  secret  spies,  both  of  Naples  and  Austria, 
in  London,  and  Mazzini's  friends  took  all  possible  precau- 
tions to  guard  him  against  surprise.  After  waiting  some 
time,  we  were  visited  by  a  second  Italian,  whose  inspection 
was  apparently  satisfactory,  for  he  informed  us  that  Maa- 
dni  would  receive  us. 

Finally,  at  the  end  of  an  hour  the  great  Revolutionist- 
the  ex-Triumvir  of  the  last  Roman  republic — appeared, 
He  was  of  medixun  height,  slender,  and  about  forty-five 
years  of  age.    The  character  of  his  head  presents  a  strikinj^ 


SOME  SNGLISH   GELEBBTnXB.  489 

contrast  to  that  of  Kossuth.  It  is  smaller,  but  the  fore* 
head  is  high,  symmetrical,  and  nobly  arched  at  the  temple* 
His  large  black  eyes  burn  with  the  light  of  an  inextin- 
guishable enthusiasm,  and  when  he  speaks,  the  rapid  play 
of  the  muscles  of  his  mouth  expresses  the  intensity  of  hia 
nature.  His  complexion  is  a  pale  olive,  almost  sallow,  hia 
hair  black,  thin,  inclining  to  baldness,  and  his  short  beard 
and  moustache  slightly  sprinkled  with  gray.  He  had  a 
worn  appearance,  as  if  exhausted  by  incessant  labor,  yet 
spoke  of  the  future  of  Italy  with  an  enthusiasm  and  a  faith 
which  nothing  could  dampen.  Though  so  far  off,  Rome, 
Naples,  and  Milan  were  then  ripening  for  revolution,  under 
the  potency  of  his  ardent  brain.  I  could  easily  understand 
the  magnetism  by  which  he  has  drawn  all  the  hopes  of 
Italy  to  himself — it  is  this  intense  faith  in  his  object. 

If  there  ever  should  come  a  time  when  the  true  biography 
of  Mazzini  may  be  safely  written  and  pubhshed,  it  wiU  be 
one  of  the  most  wonderful  books  of  the  age.  His  adven- 
tures during  the  last  ten  years  (judging  simply  by  what 
little  is  hinted,  not  told),  surpass  those  of  Baron  Trenck, 
La  Tour,  and  the  Chevalier  d'Eon.  There  is  scarcely  a 
parallel  to  the  splendid  audacity  with  which  he  has  visited 
Italy,  again  and  again,  with  the  whole  detective  force  of 
Austria,  both  open  and  secret,  lymg  in  wait  for  him.  It  is 
sad  that  a  life  of  such  self-devotion  should  be  slowly  wasted 
ftway  in  disappointments. 


I  shall  never  forget  the  dark,  rainy  day,  when  I  took  the 
tnun  to  Reading  on  my  way  to  visit  Mary  Russell  Mitford 


440  AX  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

More  than  one  friendly  message  Lad  the  kird  eld  lady  sent 
to  me  on  my  wanderings;  but,  altliough  we  had  thus 
exchanged  greetings  for  years,  I  had  never  seen  her. 
Now,  however,  on  the  eve  of  a  long  journey  to  China  and 
Japan,  knowing  that  she  was  feeble  and  not  likely  to  live 
iong,  I  could  not  leave  without  confirming  my  pleasant 
knowledge  of  her  by  a  personal  interview.  She  was  then 
living  in  her  cottage  at  Swallowfield,  a  little  village  six 
miles  from  Reading.  In  answer  to  my  note  of  inquiry,  she 
wrote ;  "  I  do  not  apologize  for  asking  you,  who  have 
lodged  in  the  huts  and  tents  of  all  the  tribes  of  the  earth, 
to  visit  an  invalid,  in  her  simple  hermitage.  I  shall  look 
for  you,  and  there  will  be  another  plate  at  my  little  table.*'* 

On  reaching  the  red,  stiff,  stately  town  of  Reading — 
which  Miss  Mitford  describes,  under  the  name  of  "  Belford 
Regis,"  in  "  Our  Village," — the  rain  descended  in  torrents. 
There  was  one  forlorn  hack  at  the  railway  station,  and  the 
driver  hesitated  a  little  when  I  mentioned  Swallowfield. 
Be  looked  at  me  a  moment,  and  named  a  plumping  fere. 
As  I  did  not  flinch,  but  placed  my  hand  on  the  cab-door, 
he  shook  his  capes,  jammed  his  hat  down  on  his  brows, 
mounted  the  box,  and  off  we  went.  Through  the  floods 
which  streamed  down  the  panes,  I  obtained  but  a  blurred 
and  unsatisfactory  view  of  the  scenery.  There  were  thorn 
hedges,  still  green,  on  either  side  of  the  road ;  the  yellow 
leaves  of  the  elms  and  the  dead  foliage  of  oaks  fell  in  blind< 
ing  showers,  and  gray  hills  rose  or  sank  against  the  blank 
gray  sky. 

In  an  hour  I  saw  that  we  had  entered  a  little  village,  the 
houses  standing  apart  from  each  other,  and  well  embowered 


BOMS  SNQLISH   CELEBBTTIBS.  44] 

in  trees.  Presently  the  cab  stopped  at  a  triangular  garden- 
plot,  in  fron  of  a  tall  old  two-story  house  of  brick.  Before 
I  had  alighted,  a  serious  old  man-sei-vant  appeared,  coming 
down  the  gravel  walk  with  an  umbrella.  I  sent  my  con- 
veyance to  the  village  inn,  and  under  the  guidance  of 
"  Sam,"  Miss  Mitford's  faithful  servitor,  was  soon  ushered 
into  her  comfortable  parlor-library.  Almost  at  the  same 
moment,  she  entered  through  another  door,  stretching  out 
one  hand  in  welcome,  while  the  other  held  a  cane  which 
supported  her  slow  and  tottering  steps. 

I  think  I  should  have  recognised  her  anywhere.  The 
short,  plump  body,  the  round,  cheerful  old  face,  with  cheeks 
still  as  rosy  as  a  girl's,  the  kindly  blue  eyes,  the  broad,  placid 
brow,  and  bands  of  silver  hair  peeping  from  beneath  the 
quaint  frilled  cap,  seemed  to  be  all  features  of  the  picture 
which  I  had  previously  drawn  in  my  mind.  But  for  a  gay 
touch  in  the  ribbons,  and  the  absence  of  the  book-muslin 
handkerchief  over  the  bosom,  she  might  have  been  taken 
for  one  of  those  dear  old  Quaker  ladies,  whose  presence,  in 
its  cheerfiil  serenity,  is  an  atmosphere  of  contentment  and 
peace.  Her  voice  was  sweet,  round,  and  racy,  with  h 
delicious  archness  at  times.  Sitting  in  deep  arm-chairs,  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  warm  grate,  while  the  rain  lashed  the 
panes  and  the  ttutumn  leaves  drifted  outside,  we  passed  the 
afternoon  in  genial  talk.  Charles  Kingsley  had  left  bu 
half  an  hour  before  my  arrival.  He  had  brought  with  him 
ffome  pages  of  his  poem  of  "  Andromeda,''  the  cbdracter  of 
which  Miss  Mitford  described  to  me,  although  she  could 
not  repeat  the  lines. 

Her  talk  was  rich  with  reminiscences  of  the  great  authors 


442  AT  HOMS  ASD  ABBOAO. 

of  the  past  generation.  Walter  Scott,  Hannah  More,  the 
Porters,  Miss  Edge  worth,  Charles  Lamb,  Hazlitt,  and  Cole- 
ridge she  had  known ;  but  her  literary  sympathies  were  of 
the  most  catholic  kind,  and  she  spoke  with  a  glowing 
appreciation  of  the  younger  race  of  authors.  For  Mra. 
Browning,  especially,  she  entertained  a  warm  personal  a$ 
well  as  intellectual  attachment.  Towards  evening,  Sam 
announced  dinner,  and  we  sat  down  to  the  neat  little  table, 
on  which  stood  a  venison  pie  that  needed  no  apology. 
While  we  were  thus  engaged,  the  Dowager  Lady  Russell, 
Miss  Mitford's  neighbor  and  friend,  arrived,  accompanied 
by  her  younger  son.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  the  cordial 
affection  with  which  they  regarded  her.  Presently  arose 
a  lively  debate  concerning  Louis  Napoleon,  whom  Misa 
Mitford  admired,  while  young  Mr.  Russell  (like  most  Eng 
lishmen  at  that  time)  disliked  and  distrusted  him.  The 
latter  told  a  bit  of  gossip,  however,  at  which  his  good- 
tempered  opponent  was  obliged  to  laugh  heartily.     "  Have 

you  not  heard,"  said  he,  "  what  Mrs. ,  who  knew  Louis 

Napoleon  well,  as  a  refugee  in  England,  said  to  him  in  Paris 
the  other  day  ?  She  was  at  the  ball  at  the  Hotel  de  Villa, 
and,  desiring  to  renew  her  acquaintance,  placed  herself 
several  times  in  his  waj .  Noticing  that  he  saw,  but  avoided 
her,  she  at  last  took  a  position  where  he  would  be  obUged 

to  recognise  her.     '  Ah,  Madame ,'  said  he,  suddenly, 

depuis  quand  ^tes-vous  d  Paris  f '     '  Depuis  quinzejows^ 
Bhe  quietly  answered, — '  et  vous  f ' " 

But  the  twilight  now  began  to  fall,  and  it  was  necessary 
that  I  should  hasten  back  to  Reading,  in  order  to  catch  the 
evening  ti-iUn.     Sam  ordered  the  cab  from  the  village 


SOMS  EKQUSH    CBLSBRnTE&  -44S 

tavern,  I  took  once  more  the  old  lady's  hand,  and  bade  her 
an  eternal  farewell.  She  lived  three  years  more,  and  we 
Btill  corresponded,  even  when  voice  and  motion  failed,  and 
she  lay  for  months  propped  in  an  easy  chair,  with  life  only 
in  her  brain  and  heart,  power  only  in  eyes  and  handa 
Thus  was  her  last  letter  to  me  written,  but  a  few  daya 
before  her  death — a  letter  sublime  in  the  spirit  of  peace,  and 
tenderness,  and  resignation,  with  which  she  takes  leave  of 
the  world. 


I  had  tvrice  called  upon  Barry  Cornwall  with  letters  of 
introduction,  and  as  often  been  disappointed,  owing  to  his 
absence  from  London,  in  former  years.  In  July,  1856, 
however,  I  was  agreeably  surprised  by  a  cordial  note  from 
him,  inviting  me  to  breakfast  on  the  following  day.  The 
poet  is  a  small  man,  with  a  slight,  yet  well-proportioned 
frame,  and  a  head,  which  at  first  sight  reminds  one  of  the 
portraits  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  although  you  afterwards  see 
that  it  is  much  more  softly  and  delicately  modelled.  His 
hair  is  gray  (he  must  be  at  least  sixty-five  years  old,  having 
been  a  schoolfellow  of  Byron  and  Sir  Robert  Peel,  at  Har 
row),  and  his  face  rather  pale  from  illness,  but  his  cheeks 
are  smooth  and  un wrinkled,  his  eyes  are  clear,  soft  gray,  and 
his  mouth  and  dimpled  chin  expressive  of  great  sweetness 
and  gentleness.  Honeyed  rhymes,  you  could  well  believe, 
would  drop  naturally  from  those  rips.  With  him  I  found 
his  wife,  a  daughter  of  Basil  Montague,  and  their  three 
daughters,  of  whom  Adelaide,  the  eldest,  has  since  proved 
her  dalm  to  inherit  her  father's  mantle  by  a  volume  of 


444  AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

lyi'ics.     To  them  entered  (as  the  play-books  say)  liobert 
Browning,  and  the  breakfast  party  was  complete. 

I  had  met  both  Browning  and  his  wife  five  years  before, 
in  the  company  of  John  Kenyon  ("Kenyon  the  Magni 
ficent,"  Browning  called  him),  when  they  fii-st  returned  to 
England  after  four  years  in  Italy.  The  hearty,  genial, 
impulsive,  im-English  character  of  the  poet  (much  like  what 
we  fancy  Shelley  to  have  been)  made  a  strong  impression 
apon  me.  He  overruns  with  a  boyish  life  and  vivacity, 
darting  out  continual  flashes  of  wit  and  imagination,  like 
the  pranks  of  heat  lightning  in  a  summer  cloud ;  while  his 
wife,  with  her  thin,  pale  face,  half  hidden  by  heavy  brown 
ringlets,  shines  between,  with  the  mildness  and  steadiness 
of  moonlight.  They  form  almost  the  only  instance  I  know 
of  poets  happily  mated — ^both  great,  yet  each  respecting 
the  other's  individuality,  each  proud  of  the  other's  £ame. 

On  this  occasion  Browning  was  in  a  very  lively  mood. 
He  entertained  us  at  breakfast  with  quotations  from  a 
dream  the  previous  night,  in  which  he  had  rewritten 
Richard  the  Third.  The  tent-scene,  in  particular,  was  one 
of  the  maddest  mixtures  of  Shaksperean  poetry  and  modern 
slang  that  could  be  imagined.  Mrs.  Proctor  is  a  brilliarl 
talker,  and  Barry  Cornwall,  though  exceedingly  quiet  an<1 
unobtrusive  in  his  manner,  now  and  then  dropped  a  remark, 
the  quaint  humor  of  which  reminded  me  of  Charles  Lamb 
After  breakfast  I  spent  a  delightful  hour  in  his  library 
From  a  drawer  under  his  writing-desk  he  produced  two  oi" 
three  small  books,  bound  in  leather,  which  contained  the 
original  drafts  of  most  of  his  songs.  Among  others  he 
■bowed  me  "The  Sea,"  "  The  Stormy  Petrel,"  and  "Tend 


SOKB  SNQIJSH   CBLSBBmES.  44S 

US  gently,  Time."  I  was  interested  to  hear  that  many  of  hii 
finest  lyrics  and  songs  were  composed  mentally,  while  ridinjK 
daily  to  the  City  in  an  omniboa. 


I  had  80  long  known  the  greatest  of  living  English  poeti 
— Alfred  Tennyson — ^not  only  through  his  works  but  from 
the  talk  of  mutual  friends,  that  I  gladly  embraced  an 
opportunity  to  know  him  personally,  which  happened  to  me 
in  Jmie,  1857.  He  was  then  Uving  at  his  home — ^the  estate 
of  Farringford,  near  Freshwater,  on  the  Isle  of  Wight. 
I  should  have  hesitated  to  intrude  upon  his  retirement,  had 
I  not  been  kindly  assured  beforehand  that  my  visit  would 
not  be  unwelcome.  The  drive  across  the  heart  of  the 
island,  from  Newport  to  Freshwater,  was  alone  worth  the 
journey  from  London.  The  softly  undulating  hills,  the 
deep  green  valleys,  the  blue  waters  of  the  Solent,  and  the 
purple  glimpses  of  the  New  Forest  beyond,  formed  a  fit 
vestibule  of  landscape  through  which  to  approach  a  poet*s 
home. 

As  we  drew  near  Freshwater,  my  coachman  pointed  out 
Farringford — a  cheerful  gray  country  mansion,  with  a  small, 
thick-grassed  park  before  it,  a  grove  behind,  and  beyond 
all,  the  steep  shoulder  of  the  chalk  downs,  a  gap  in  which, 
at  Freshwater,  showed  the  dark-blue  horizon  of  the  Channel. 
Leaving  my  luggage  at  one  of  the  two  little  inns,  I  walked 
to  the  house,  with  lines  from  Maud  chiming  in  my  mind, 
llie  "  dry-tongued  laurel "  shone  glossily  in  the  sun ;  the 
eedar  "  sighed  for  Lebanon  "  on  the  lawn,  and  the  "  liquid 


446  AT  HOMB  Am)  ABROAD. 

aznre  bloom  of  a  crescent  of  sea  "  glimmered  afiir.  I  had 
not  been  two  mijiutes  in  the  drawing-room  betbre  Tennyson 
walked  in.  So  unlike  are  the  published  portraits  of  him 
that  I  was  almost  m  doubt  as  to  his  identity.  The  engraved 
head  suggests  a  moderate  stature,  but  he  is  tall  and  broad- 
shouldered  as  a  son  of  Anak,  with  hair,  beard,  and  eyes,  of 
southern  darkness.  Something  in  the  lofty  brow  and  aqui- 
line nose  suggests  Dante,  but  such  a  deep,  mellow  chest- 
voice never  could  have  come  from  Italian  lungs. 

He  proposed  a  walk,  as  the  day  was  wonderfully  cleai 
and  beautiftil.  We  climbed  the  steep  comb  of  the  chalk 
clifl^  and  slowly  wandered  westward  until  we  reached  the 
Ifeedles,  at  the  extremity  of  the  island,  and  some  three  or 
four  miles  distant  from  his  residence.  During  the  conver- 
sation with  which  we  beguiled  the  way,  I  was  struck  with 
the  variety  of  his  knowledge.  Not  a  little  flower  on  the 
downs,  which  the  sheep  had  spared,  escaped  his  notice,  and 
the  geology  of  the  coast,  both  terrestrial  and  submarine, 
was  perfectly  familiar  to  him.  I  thought  of  a  remark 
which  I  had  once  heard  from  the  lips  of  a  distinguished 
English  author,  that  Tennyson  was  the  wisest  man  he  ever 
knew,  and  could  well  believe  that  he  was  sincere  in 
making  it. 

I  shall  respect  the  sanctity  of  the  delightful  family  circle, 
to  which  I  was  admitted,  and  from  which  I  parted,  the 
Dext  afternoon,  with  true  regret.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that 
the  poet  is  not  only  fortunate  and  happy  in  his  family 
relations,  but  that,  with  his  large  and  liberal  nature,  his 
sympathies  for  what  is  true  and  noble  in  humanity,  and  hi* 
depth  and  tenderness  of  feeling,  ho  deserves  to  be  so. 


XXXVI. 

SCENES   AT   A    TARGET-SHOOTIXG. 

[AUGUST,    1868.] 


N«rr  to  the  Kirmsey  or  autumnal  festival  of  the  German 

peasants,  which  I  have  described  elsewhere,  comes  the 
annual  shooting-match.  This  is  called  the  VogeUchiessen^ 
ur  bird-shooting,  because  the  target  is  always  the  crowned, 
double-headed  eagle  of  the  German  Empire.  The  festival, 
which  usually  lasts  a  week,  is  commonly  held  in  August.  In 
the  Saxon  principalities  of  Middle  Germany  it  has  almost 
an  official  and  national  character,  the  rulers,  ministers,  and 
Dobility  participating  in  it  as  well  as  the  burghers  and 
peasantry.  In  the  court  towns,  where  it  lasts  an  entire 
week,  it  is  accompanied  by  circuses  and  shows  of  every 
kind,  and  therefore  furnishes  an  excellent  picture  of  th 
popular  amusements  of  the  country. 

At  Gotha  there  is  a  special  target-ground,  kept  for  the 
occasion,  on  the  flat  summit  of  a  hill  which  touches  the 


148  A.T   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

towu  on  the  northwestern  side.  Here  there  is  a  spaciotu 
dancing-hall,  and  a  large  shooting-house,  the  front  part  of 
which  is  fitted  up  as  a  restaurant,  while  the  rear  contains  a 
gallery  with  open  boxes  for  the  marksmen.  Back  of  thii 
txtends  an  alley,  about  eighty  yards  in  length,  at  the 
extremity  of  which  is  planted  a  mast,  fifty  feet  high, 
bearing  the  double-headed  eagle  upon  its  top.  The  bird 
is  cut  out  of  a  thin  plank  of  tough  wood,  and  measures 
four  or  five  feet  from  tip  to  tip.  The  various  parts  of  the 
figure  have  different  values,  according  to  which  the  merits 
of  the  marksmen  are  determined.  Thus,  he  who  shoots 
away  a  crown  takes  the  first  prize;  the  shield  on  the 
breast  ranks  next,  and  the  feet  and  wings  last.  A  Ken- 
tucky rifleman  would  be  far  from  considering  this  a  j'lst 
standard.  The  shooting  is  governed  by  a  long  list  of 
rules  and  regulations,  any  violation  of  which  expels  the 
competitor. 

I  did  not  attend  the  festival  until  the  second  day,  when 
all  the  shows  were  in  full  operation,  and  the  crowd  of 
visitors  greatest.  The  large  open  space  in  front  of  the 
dancing-hall  was  covered  with  regular  streets  of  booths,  as 
at  a  fair,  and  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  force  a  way  through 
the  crowd  of  citizens  and  peasants  in  holiday  dress,  who 
had  flocked  in  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  far  and  near. 
On  the  right  stood  the  tent  of  a  circus  company ;  on  the 
left  a  carrotcsel^  or  race-course  of  hobby  horses.  Then 
followed  exhibitions  of  strange  animals,  human  monstrosi- 
ties, panoramic  views,  and  marionettes,  with  a  pleasant 
alternation  of  beer-booths,  shops  for  the  sale  of  poppy-seed 
and  onion  cakes,  roasted  sausages,  pretzels,  pun^'h,  and  ioeii 


SCSNXS   AT    A   TARGErr-SHOOTmO.  449 

Beyond  the  dancing-hall  rose  a  crescent-shaped  terrace, 
shaded  with  tall  linden  trees,  and  literally  covered  with 
tables  and  benches,  at  which  hundreds  were  enjoying  their 
coffee  and  ices,  while  a  band  played  waltzes  and  over- 
tures from  the  balcony  of  the  shooting-house.  Scattered 
about  through  the  crowd,  each  surrounded  by  a  ring  of 
admiring  children  and  amused  peasants,  were  ballad-singers, 
dancing  monkeys,  fortune-tellers,  and  venders  of  "  Tragi* 
Occurrences."  The  combination  of  gay  colors,  odd  cos- 
tumes, and  picturesque  forms,  surging  through  broad  belts 
of  light  and  shade,  in  a  sea  of  noisy  merriment,  made  a 
picture  that  would  have  delighted  Wilkie  or  Ostade. 

In  the  shooting- house,  there  was  not  much  going  on. 
There  were  but  few  competitors  present,  and  they  fired 
with  a  lazy,  nonchalant  air,  discussing  gunnery  and  beer 
between  the  shots.  The  bird  was  pretty  well  riddled,  but 
had  lost  neither  crown  nor  shield,  although  the  feet  and  a 
part  of  one  wang  were  gone.  On  the  foUowmg  afternoon, 
however,  the  crown  was  shot  away  by  the  president  of  a 
target  society  from  one  of  the  neighboiing  towns.  The 
lucky  marksman  not  only  received  the  first  prize  of  a  silver 
cup,  but  was  immediately  saluted  as  King  of  the  Festival, 
adorned  with  the  ancient  golden  collar  always  used  on  the 
occasion,  and  led  in  triumphant  procession  ai'ound  the 
grounds.  He  was  a  stout,  phlegmatic  man  of  middle  age 
and  blushed  up  to  the  roots  of  his  blond  hair,  as  he  passed 
through  the  shouting  crowd,  followed  by  the  other  compe- 
titors, walking  two  and  two.  The  distinction  brings  with 
h  also  the  obligations  of  making  a  speech,  and  of  presiding 
at  the  banquet  which  followed,  so  that  the  embarrassment 


450  AT  HOMS  AND  ABBOAO. 

is  fuiy  equal  to  the  honor.  Two  years  before,  the  Duke 
himself  bore  away  the  first  prize. 

Tlie  ball  in  the  evening  was  made  select  by  a  charge  of 
one  thaler  (71  cents)  for  admission,  and  the  prescription  of 
h  black  dress,  with  white  kid  gloves.  Therefore  it  was  like 
any  starched  and  respectable  ball  anywhere  else  in  the 
world,  and  I  had  no  curiosity  to  witness  it.  All  such  rigid 
recreation  is  an  inevitable  bore,  except  to  very  pretty 
young  ladies,  whose  means  allow  them  to  dress  handsomely, 
and  to  shallow-headed  young  gentlemen,  expert  at  the 
polka  and  in  the  parting  of  their  back-hair.  A  military 
drill,  or  a  dance  of  naked  savages  by  torchlight,  is  a  much 
more  diverting  spectacle.  If  my  reader  prefers,  with  me, 
the  grotesque,  the  curious,  and  the  comic,  to  the  stupid  and 
the  proper,  we  will  leave  the  genteel  society  to  simper  and 
dance  in  the  banquet-hall,  and  accompany  the  peasants  to 
their  penny-shows. 

As  we  pass  around  the  corner  of  the  building,  we  are 
attracted  by  a  series  of  remarkable  paintings  hung  against 
the  wall.  They  are  illustrations  of  terrible  murders  and 
robberies,  the  full  narratives  of  which  you  may  buy  for  a 
cent  apiece.  Let  us  look  at  the  titles,  which  sufficiently 
illustrate  the  character  of  these  fictions — for  fictitious  they 
assuredly  are.  Here  is  a  "  Terrific  and  Fearful  Occurrence, 
which  took  place  at  Cologne  in  the  year  1856,  and  the  Cul- 
prit was  Executed  on  the  6th  of  August,  1857."  Lest, 
however,  you  should  sup  exclusively  on  horrors,  here  is  a 
more  cheei-ful,  though  still  fascinating  title :  "  The  Mii-acn- 
ious  Rescue  of  a  Child,  and  Description  of  a  Tenible  Band 
of  Robbers  iij   the   Mountairs  of  Naples."  followed  bj 


bCSSSa  AT  A  TASGKr-SHOOTDie.  461 

**  Maria  Carleton,  the  French  Princess,  spouse  of  six  Hn» 
bands,  and  leader  of  Banditti,  executed  in  London,  in 
1861."  Also,  "Freja,  the  Orphan  of  Silistria,  who  was 
Balled  in  Battle  and  Promoted  to  the  rank  of  Captain, 
including  Who  her  Parents  Were."  The  style  of  these 
productions,  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say,  is  very  childish 
and  silly.  After  a  murder,  generally  follow  the  exclama- 
tions :  "  Oh,  what  a  horrid  deed !"  "  Alas,  alas !  how  ter- 
rible I"  and  to  the  end  of  each  narrative  is  attached  a 
poem,  describing  the  tragedy  and  embodying  its  moral 
lesson,  80  that  the  reader,  who  has  made  himself  familiar 
with  the  circimistances,  may  adapt  the  verses  to  some 
&vorite  melody,  and  sing  them  for  the  edification  of  his 
friends. 

The  Censorship  of  the  Press,  which  at  one  time  was  very 
rigid  in  Germany,  never  prohibited  these  blood-streaming 
pubhcations,  the  Government,  no  doubt,  recognising  the 
fact  that  men  would  much  sooner  give  up  the  discussion  of 
abstract  principles  of  Right  and  Wrong,  than  the  privilege 
of  feasting  their  curiosity  on  the  records  of  crime.  This 
desu-e  seisms  to  be  a  normal  trait  of  human  nature.  Among 
our  weaknesses  is  a  craving  for  the  sensation  of  horror, 
while  our  self-love  is  flattered  by  the  comparison  which  we 
naturally  institute  between  the  criminal  and  oursehes. 
Conscience,  which  at  best  has  a  long  account  scored  against 
us,  suggests  that  there  are  still  worse  men  than  we  are  in 
the  world:  our  own  vices  diminish  in  importance  ae  we 
compare  them  with  some  colossal  crime.  Nobody  would 
take  a  newspaper,  if  it  did  not  contain  the  police  reports. 
We  cannot,  therefore,  wonder  at  the  uncultivated  taste 


462  AT  HOME  AlTD  ABBOAD. 

which  creates  a  demand  for  such  disgusting  trash — for,  ii 
the  style  were  classic  and  the  story  well  told,  we  should 
purchase  a  copy  ourselves.  The  yellow-covered  literature 
of  the  United  States  is  one  step  above  these  rough  penny 
pamphlets,  because  the  mental  calibre  of  the  class  who  read 
them  is  somewhat  greater  than  that  of  the  same  class  in 
Germany.  After  much  observation  and  reflection,  I  am 
mclined  to  doubt  whether  any  serious  harm  can  be  ascribed 
to  such  productions.  The  mere  habit  of  reading  impercep- 
tibly improves  the  taste  of  the  reader,  and  a  man  who 
can  swallow  the  blood-and-th  under  of  George  Lippard 
to-day,  will  relish  Dickens  ten  years  hence. 

Leaving  the  literary  department  behind  us,  we  pass  on 
to  the  booths.  Presently  we  are  attracted  by  a  flaming 
sign :  "  Here  is  to  be  seen  the  wild  African  Man  of  the 
Forests,  the  Only  Specimen  in  Existence."  The  entrance 
fee  amoimts  to  ten  cents,  and  the  unusual  expense  makes 
us  hesitate;  but  we  have  five  eager  boys  in  our  charge, 
and  their  longing  glances  soon  decide  us.  Entering  a  tent, 
every  avenue  into  which  is  carefully  screened  from  the 
multitude,  we  behold  a  small  black  chimpanzee,  seated 
upon  a  table,  while  his  proprietor  is  thus  expatiating  to  a 
small  but  select  audience :  "  A  most  extraordinary  animal, 
your  lordships !  I  bought  him  from  the  captain  of  a  vessel, 
direct  from  Africa.  The  English  government  offered  £20C 
for  him  afterwards.  You  see,  he  is  exactly  like  a  human 
being ;  the  only  difference  in  fact  is  his  language.  These 
animals  live  in  the  unknown  regions  in  the  centre  of  Africa 
They  build  themselves  houses  and  live  in  villages,  just  like 
mfin.    The  negro  tribes  catch  and  make  slaves  of  them, 


BCENSS   AT   A   TABGSrr-SHOOTINa.  453 

employing  them  to  cultivate  their  rice-lields.  It  is  necefr 
sary,  however,  to  have  an  overseer,  as  they  will  not  work 
if  left  alone.  They  cannot  live  in  Europe,  on  accoimt  ol 
the  severity  of  the  climate,  but  as  this  one  is  very  young, 
I  have  succeeded,  with  great  difficulty,  in  preserving  hia 
afe." 

It  was  a  poor  old  beast,  less  than  three  feet  high,  and 
with  a  beard  gray  with  age.  He  surveyed  us  with  an  un- 
happy look,  peeling  and  sucking  an  orange  meanwhile. 
"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  I  to  the  keeper,  "  in  supposing 
that  this  animal  comes  from  Africa.''  "  Pardon  me,  sir," 
said  he,  "  this  is  the  genuine  African  man  of  the  forests." 
"  But  I  have  travelled  in  the  interior  of  Africa,"  I 
answered ;  "  you  only  find  this  variety  in  Java  and  Suma- 
tra, where  I  have  seen  them,"  I  thereupon  overwhelmed 
him  with  information  (most  unwelcome)  concerning  the 
animal.  The  next  day,  when  I  came  again  with  a  fresh 
company  of  children,  he  was  in  the  middle  of  his  accus- 
tomed speech  ;  but  seeing  me,  stopped  very  abruptly, 
while  he  threw  towards  me  a  helpless,  imploring  glance,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  Please  don't  stay  long — ^your  presence  is 
very  embarrassing." 

Near  this  tent  stood  another,  with  the  sign — "  The 
Great  Sea-Lion  of  the  Polar  Regions."  The  price  of 
admission  was  three  cents,  and  the  animal,  as  I  supposed, 
was  an  ordinary  seal,  named  "  Jacob,"  which  looked  at  us 
ftppealingly  out  of  its  beautiful  human  eyes.  It  was  not  a 
very  profitable  monster,  requiring  a  tank  of  water,  and 
retusing  to  appear  when  caUed  for.  The  Giant  and  the 
Dwarf*  who  had  a  booth  in  common,  did  a  much  bette; 


464  AT  HOME   AJUD   AB&OAH. 

biunuess.  The  former  was  stupid,  as  all  giants  are,  and  the 
latter  malicious,  as  are  most  dwarfs.  It  was  pleasant, 
however,  to  see  the  latter  standing  with  both  feet  in  the 
empty  shoe  of  the  former. 

The  fortune  tellers  were  not  very  well  patronized,  pro- 
bably because  the  printed  oracular  slips,  which  they  ftir- 
nished  for  two  cents,  were  already  familiar  to  most  of  the 
crowd.  To  me,  however,  they  were  new.  By  two  judi- 
cious investments  I  ascertained  not  only  my  own  character, 
but  that  of  my  destined  wife.  I  learned,  to  my  surprise, 
that  I  had  a  secret  enemy,  who  was  working  hard  for  my 
rain,  but  was  cheered  to  find  that  I  should  in  the  end  tri- 
umph over  him.  I  had  also  many  friends,  bat  I  must  not 
trust  everybody.  I  should  have  bad  luck  a  while,  then 
good,  then  bad  again,  and  in  the  end*  all  would  be  fortu- 
nate. The  latter  part  of  my  life — which,  if  it  did  not  ter- 
minate sooner,  would  extend  to  a  great  age — would  be 
illimiinated  by  all  kinds  of  gorgeous  pyrotechnics.  Having 
learned  thus  much,  I  must  needs  behold  the  face  of  the 
partner  of  my  destiny.  The  oracle  looked  at  me — noticed 
probably  that  hair  and  eyes  were  dark — turned  a  wheel, 
and  directed  me  to  place  my  eye  to  a  large  lens  in  the  side 
of  a  box.  I  beheld  a  blue-eyed  and  blond-haired  lady, 
properly  flounced  and  crinoUiied,  with  a  bonnet  like  an 
oyster-sheU  behind  her  ears.  She  resembled  one  of  the 
fashion-figures  in  Godey's  Lady's  Book,  and  of  course  I  was 
happy.  My  companion,  whose  complexion  was  very  light, 
was  introduced  to  a  lady  with  dark  eyes  and  hair. 

The  sound  of  a  shrill  voice  singing,  "  Oh,  but  I  am 
weary ;  oh,  but  T  am  fatigued  !"  attracted  our  attentioo. 


BCBNSS  AT   A   TABGET-SHOOTINO.  455 

A  Ltrgo  raw-boned  woman,  accompanied  by  her  son,  were 
tl.e  minstrels.  They  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  pea- 
sants, some  of  whom  had  purchased  slips  containing  the 
words  of  the  song,  and  were  attentively  following  the  mo- 
ody in  order  to  catch  and  sing  it  themselves  afterwards. 
Phis  is  their  usual  method  of  learning  new  songs  and  ballads, 
and  where  these  are  of  a  popular  character,  the  wandering 
music-teachers  are  rewarded  with  a  good  stock  oi  groschen. 
Here,  nowever,  the  difference  in  taste  between  the  uncul- 
tivated classes  of  Germany  and  America  is  much  to  the 
credit  of  the  former.  Their  songs  were,  for  the  most  part, 
of  a  more  refined  and  sentimental  order  than  those  which 
adorn  the  Park  railing  in  New  York.  The  fun  is  never  so 
coarse  as  in  "  Bobbing  Around"  or  "  Yillikins  and  his 
Dinah,"  nor  the  sentiment  quite  so  silly  as  in  "Marble 
Halls"  and  "  Barbara  Allen."  Here  is  one  which,  from  the 
orowd  of  lusty  young  peasants  who  followed  the  raw-be  ned 
ninstrel,  to  catch  the  air,  must  have  been  a  great  favorite: 

Thou  hast  diamonds,  and  pearls,  and  jewels, 

Hast  all  the  heart  wishes,  in  store ; 
And  ah,  thou  hast  eyes  so  lovely — 

My  darling,  what  wouldst  thou  bare  more  ? 

And  upon  thine  eyes  so  lovely, 

That  pierce  my  heart  to  its  core, 
Uncounted  songs  have  I  written — 

My  darling,  what  wouldst  thou  have  more  f 

Alas,  with  thine  eyes  so  lovely. 

Thou  hast  tortured  and  wounded  me  wx^ ; 
Tliiiie  ©yes  have  compassed  my  ruin — 

My  darling,  what  wouiost  tuju  L^ve  mofOt 


466  AT  HOMB  AND   ABBOAIK 

/knd,  because  of  thine  eyes  s )  tender, 

Have  I  ventured  more  and  more, 
And  so  much,  ah,  so  much  have  I  suffered — 

My  darUng,  what  wouldst  thou  have  more? 

There  are  also  booths  containing  panoramic  and  stereo 
scopic  views,  which  I  noticed  were  visited  by  great  numbera 
of  the  poorer  people.  The  marionette  theatres  and  the 
perambulating  Punch-and-Judy  shows  were  remarkably 
popular,  and  the  swings  and  flying  horses  never  ceased  their 
rounds.  Bauer  from  the  northern  country,  with  their  short- 
waisted  coats,  long  jackets,  and  knee-breeches,  crowded 
around  the  stalls  where  onion-cakes,  hissing  hot  from  the 
pan,  were  displayed  on  the  greasy  board,  and  then  moved 
off  beerward,  to  give  room  to  the  women,  in  their  high 
fantastic  caps,  glittering  with  golden  pins  and  brooches, 
and  with  manifold  streamers  of  silk  dangling  from  the 
summit.  In  envious  contrast  to  these  were  the  maidens 
from  some  western  villages,  with  hair  combed  d  la  Chinoise 
to  the  top  of  the  head,  where  it  was  covered  by  a  small, 
oup-shaped  piece  of  embroidered  cloth.  The  petticoats  of 
these  damsels  reached  barely  to  the  knee,  but  they  made  up 
m  diameter  what  they  lacked  in  length.  They  were  hardy, 
healthy  creatures,  with  arms  like  a  butcher's,  calves  Hke  a 
mountauieer's,  nut-brown  cheeks,  and  teeth  which  could 
bite  off  a  tenpenny  nail. 

At  night,  when  the  laborers  took  their  holiday,  the  mul- 
titude presented  a  still  more  picturesque  appearance,  in  the 
flaring  light  of  lamps  and  torches.  Then  the  music  wa« 
redoubled  ;  the  great  hall  shook  under  the  measured  stroke 
of  the  dancers'  feet,  and  little  circles  of  waltzers  were 


SCHNIS   AT   A   TARGET-SHOOTING.  45) 

formed  on  level  spaces  under  the  trees.  The  fountains  of 
beer  flowed  from  exhaustless  reservoirs;  the  onion-cakes 
steamed  with  more  enticing  fragrance ;  the  new  songs 
spread  from  mouth  to  mouth  among  the  young  people, 
while  the  cackle  of  gossip  ran  around  the  circle  of  the  aged. 
Until  ten  o'clock,  it  was  a  picture  of  the  merriest,  loudest 
I'ie ;  then  the  circles  began  to  break  up,  and  the  throng 
alowly  drifted  back  to  town.  The  Vbgelschiessen  is  the 
delight  of  the  peasant  who  is  so  fortunate  as  to  have  his 
week  of  holiday,  and  ten  thalers  in  his  pocket.  When  the 
festival  is  over  his  thalers  are  gone  and  his  stomach  is 
deranged ;  but  he  has  had  a  jolly  good  time  of  it,  and  his 
sour  season  of  labor  is  sweetened  by  the  recollection  of  the 
sights  he  has  seen,  the  beer  he  has  drunk,  the  music  he  has 
heard,  the  dances  he  has  danced,  and  ('vhy  not  ?)  the  laaaw 
he  has  stolen  from  his  sweetheart. 


XXXVII. 

ASPECTS   OF   GERMAN   SOCIETY. 


Fbom  a  cursory  view,  there  would  appear  to  be  little  (ilffer 
ence  in  the  outward  form  and  mould  of  Society,  in  all 
civilized  countries,  at  the  present  time.  So  great  is  the 
amount  of  intercourse  between  the  different  nationalities, 
that  a  uniform  set  of  conventional  observances  now  passes 
current  everywhere.  The  same  ordinary  forms  of  courtesy 
flourish  in  the  latitude  of  New  York  and  St.  Petersburg, 
Stockholm  and  Madrid. 

It  is,  therefore,  only  in  the  more  intimate  circles  of  private 
and  domestic  life,  that  we  still  find  the  peculiar  traits  exist- 
ing, which  distinguish  one  people  from  another — traits  which 
^^•ill  no  doubt  be  gradually  effaced  under  that  tremendoui 
e  veiling  system,  which  haa  already  swept  away  the  distinc- 
tions of  costume  and  of  address.  These  characteristic 
aspects  of  Society  are  most  interesting  among  the  German 
and  Scandinavian  races,  on  accoimt  of  their  marked  domes 


ASPSCTS   OF   GEBIklAir   SOCIfflT.  468 

tidty,  and  the  affectionate  pertinacity  with  which  they  cling 
to  customs  and  observances  which  have  been  hallowed  by 
Time.  Their  languages  possess  the  word  "Home" — a 
word  unknown  to  the  Frenchman  and  the  Italian. 

Perhaps  the  first  peculiarity  which  strikes  the  traveller  on 
entering  Germany — ^and  which,  unless  he  be  a  fool,  impresses 
him  most  agreeably — is  the  frank  and  unrestrained  character 
of  public  intercourse.  It  would  be  impossible  to  leave  four 
Germans,  strangers  to  each  other,  alone  for  half  an  hour, 
without  their  becoming  tolerably  well  acquainted.  The 
Englishman,  when  abroad,  avoids  his  kind,  unless,  indeed, 
he  be  a  nobleman  of  goo'l  sense,  who  runs  no  risk  of  com- 
promising his  social  position ;  the  German  seeks  his  country- 
man, by  natural  afiinity.  In  this  respect,  the  American  ia 
a  cross  between  the  two.  Yet  it  is  as  rare  a  thing  to  make 
a  new  acquaintance  in  a  railroad  car,  here,  as  it  is  common 
in  any  of  the  German  States.  There  the  new  arrival  courte- 
ously salutes  the  other  passengers  on  entering ;  the  departing 
traveller  does  the  same  thing.  Time  is  considered  lost  il' 
devoted  to  silence,  when  it  might  be  agreeably  spent  \t 
conversation,  and  all  who  have  purchased  tickets  of  tin 
same  class  consider  each  other  as  equals  for  the  time  being 
Almost  the  only  examples  of  reserve  which  you  meet  will 
are  the  military  gentlemen,  whose  assumed  importance  is 
the  more  insufferable,  because  it  is  generally  based  neithe* 
upon  wealth,  character,  nor  intellect. 

Thi3  pleasant  trait  is  not  confined  to  the  masculine  sex. 
l^adies,  also,  enter  into  conversation  with  a  cheerfulness  and 
cordiality  which  illustrates  alike  their  good  sense  and  their 
inherent  courtesy.     I  travelled  two  days  in  a  diligence  in 


460  AT  HOMB  AND  ABROAD. 

company  witL  an  Austrian  Baroness  and  her  daughtera^ 
and  on  parting  received  a  most  friendly  invitation  to  visit 
the  family.  On  another  occasion,  I  met  with  a  very  intelli- 
gent lady  in  the  depot  at  Munich,  and  on  reaching  Augs- 
burg, where  she  resided,  was  introduced  by  her  to  her 
husband — a  physician  of  repute — and  cordially  invited  by 
both  to  spend  a  day  with  them.  In  these  cases,  the  ladies 
knew  nothing  about  me  except  what  they  had  learned 
during  our  brief  intercourse.  Even  in  England,  I  think, 
luch  a  thing  would  sooner  be  possible  than  with  us. 

Gallantry  towards  ladies  is  a  fine  manly  characteristic, 
and  we  Americans  have  none  too  much  of  it.  But  have  we 
not  a  right  to  ask  of  our  ladies  courtesy  towards  gentlemen  f 
There  is  no  man  worthy  of  the  name  but  would  feel  that 
there  was  a  delicate  flattery  in  the  fact  of  a  lady  address- 
ing herself  to  him  for  information,  during  a  journey  in 
which  they  were  chance  neighbors;  and  there  is  no  man 
but  would  be  conscious  of  a  sense  of  insult  if  his  respectful 
attempt  to  while  away  the  tedium  of  travel  by  conversation, 
were  repulsed.  It  is  the  risk  of  such  repulse,  not  only 
between  travellers  of  diflferent  sexes,  but  even  those  of  the 
same  sex,  which  makes  our  railroad  society  so  grim  and 
depressing.  When  a  lady  has  not  sufficient  consideration 
to  thank  you  for  a  seat,  you  may  be  sure  she  has  no  desire 
to  converse  with  you.  If  she  happens  to  know  who  yon 
are,  and  is  sure  of  your  respectability,  you  may  be  success- 
ful ;  otherwise,  there  is  something  in  her  mannner,  which 
says :  "  Bless  me  I  what  does  he  mean !  an  entire  stranger 
— I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing !  what  would  people  say  ?" 

Here,  again,  is  another  difference.    When  strangers  meet, 


ASPSCTS   OF  GEBMAir  SOCXETTT.  491 

enjoying  the  hospitality  of  a  mutual  acqudntaiioe,  there 
is  a  tacit  social  recognition,  which  dispenses  with  the 
formality  of  an  introduction.  Any  hesitation  is  justly  con- 
sidered  as  an  offence  against  the  host,  implying  that  h# 
would  ask  persons  to  meet  you  whom  it  was  not  propei 
liihi  you  should  know.  The  same  custom  prevails  in  Eng 
land,  and  is  there  carried  to  such  an  extent  that  you  are 
frequently  embarrassed  by  receiving  invitations  from  per- 
sons whom  you  may  know  by  sight,  but  not  by  name.  But 
the  absence  of  all  reserve  in  such  cases — the  frank  freedom 
of  social  intercourse — ^is  a  mark  of  true  refinement.  All 
politeness  which  is  not  founded  on  common  sense  has  but 
fictitious  value. 

There  is,  however,  one  element  of  courtesy  in  which  the 
Germans  are  deficient.  Being  a  people  of  abstract  ideas, 
and  much  given  to  that  species  of  theorizing  which  breeds 
intellectual  egotism,  they  lack  a  proper  consideration  for 
the  ideas  and  opinions  of  others.  Hence,  a  mixed  conver- 
sation very  often  assumes  the  character  of  an  argumentative 
combat.  I  have  frequently  heard  facts  denied,  because 
they  conflicted  with  some  pet  theory.  As  an  American 
and  a  republican,  I  was  constantly  liable  to  be  assailed  by 
those  who  advocated  the  monarchical  system — ^not  in  the 
way  of  courteous  inquiry,  but  direct  attack.  In  Art, 
Literature,  and  Science,  it  is  the  same  thing.  The  Ger- 
nans  have  adopted  the  idea  that  the  great  characteristic 
of  the  American  people  is  Materialism — ^because  this 
forms  a  convenient  antithesis  to  the  German  trait  of  Ideal- 
ism— and  all  the  facts  one  may  adduce  to  prove  its  falsity 
go  for  nothing.     So  with  their  ideas  concerning  Euiopeau 


462  AT  HOAIB  AND  ABBOAD. 

politics.  Tliey  are  based  upon  abstract  doctrines — theories 
of  race,  of  "  national  elements  " — which  every  year  sees 
scattered  to  the  winds,  but,  nevertheless,  they  put  the 
fragments  together  again,  and  look  upon  the  structure 
writh  the  same  unshaken  complacency  as  before.  This 
intellectual  egotism  is  at  first  offensive  to  a  stranger,  and 
one  never  becomes  entirely  reconciled  to  it.  The  same 
characteristic  may  be  observed  among  the  various  classes 
of  ultra-reformers  in  the  United  States. 

The  Teutonic  heart  cannot  beat  without  expression. 
The  emotions  are  never  subjected  to  that  self-restraint 
which  our  Anglo-Saxon  prid^  forces  upon  us.  Tears  are 
shed,  and  lips  kissed,  and  sacred  words  spoken,  if  not  in 
public,  at  least  not  in  secret.  No  man  is  ashamed  to  let 
the  world  see  that  he  loves  or  grieves.  We  shrink  from 
such  an  exhibition  because  the  sanctity  of  passion  is  pro- 
faned by  the  presence  of  curious  eyes  and  unfeeling  hearts, 
but  among  a  people  whose  sympathies  are  sensitive  there  is 
no  restraint.  Even  in  the  advertising  columns  of  the 
newspapers,  side  by  side  with  announcements  of  groceries 
and  dry  goods,  you  may  read  the  words  of  hope,  and  joy, 
and  lamentation.  Let  me  give  a  few  illustrations.  Tlie 
first  act  in  the  universal  drama  of  human  life  is  thus 
exhibited : 

"  Our  betrothal,  which  took  place  yesterday,  we  hereby  joyfblly  mak» 
known  to  all  relatires  and  friends. 

"  K&BL  SoHTTHAKir, 

"Anna  Stiefbl." 
A  year  afterwards,  if  the  course  of  true  love   run? 


ASPECTS    OF    GERMAN   SOCTBTT,  4W 

smooth — which,  I  must  admit,  it  seems  to  do  mcie  fre 
quently  than  among  us — ^you  may  read  the  following : 

"  Oar  conjugal  nnion,  which  was  yesterday  consammated,  we  hereby 

•nnoonce  to  all  relatives  and  Mends. 

"  ELiKL  Schumann, 

"  Anna  Schumann,       [ 

B^StiefeL"  • 

During  the  three  or  four  following  days,  the  emotional 
oolumn  of  advertisements  is  filled  with  congratulations,  a 
few  only  of  which  need  be  given.  There  is  usually  a  great 
similarity  of  style,  although  sometimes  congratulatory 
poems  appear.    Here  are  two  specimens: 

"We  hereby  oflFer  our  heartiest  good  wishes  to  our  relative,  Kari 
Schumann,  on  the  occasion  of  his  recent  marriage.  May  he  and  hia 
beloved  wife  live  long  and  happily  together  I 

"  The  Glanzledbb  Family." 

"  The  marriage  of  our  friends,  Karl  Schumann  and  Anna  Stiefel,  od 
Wednesday,  was  joyfully  celebrated  here  the  same  evening,  when  our 
glasses  were  emptied  to  the  prosperity  of  the  dear  couple.  All  united  in 
a  loud  and  glad  hurrah  1  (hoch  /)" 

In  another  year  (be  the  same  more  or  less),  the  second 
act  is  chronicled  in  like  manner.  What  would  those  ex- 
quisitely prudish  persons,  who  object  to  the  publicatioa 
of  births,  say  to  this : 

"  The  fortunate  delivery  of  my  beloved  wife,  Anna  Schumann,  nie 
Btiefel,  of  a  sound  and  healthy  boy,  yesterday  evening,  at  fifteen  minntet 
before  six,  I  hereby  joyfully  announce  to  all  relatives  iind  friends. 

"Eabl  Samnunr." 


464  AT  HOME  AlTD  ABROAD. 

More  congratulations  follow  the  happy  event.  The 
ohristenmg,  however,  which  usually  takes  place  in  sii 
weeks,  is  only  announced  in  the  oflSicial  register.  Most 
children  receive  from  three  to  six  names,  only  one  of 
which  is  used,  except  in  signing  legal  documents.  Sup- 
posmg  the  Schumann s  to  be  prolific  and  long-lived,  we  must 
wait  fifty  years  for  the  final  advertisement,  which  then 
appears  in  the  following  form : 

"  The  gentle  departure,  after  long  and  patiently  endured  suffbrings,  of 
our  beloved  husband,  father,  grand&ther,  brother,  father-in-law,  cousin, 
and  brother-in-law,  Karl  Schumann,  yesterday  afternoon  at  3  o'clock,  at 
the  age  of  seventy-five  years,  two  months,  and  nine  days,  we  hereby  sor- 
rowfully announce  to  all  relatives  and  Mends,  and  beg  for  their  silent 
sympathy  with  us. 

"Thk  Moubksbs,  who  ake  lbft  BsHncD." 

One  good  result  of  this  publicity,  at  least,  is  the  absence 
of  gossip.  Nevertheless,  it  is  repulsive  to  us,  who  have  been 
educated  in  different  ideas.  I  confess,  I  read  such  adver- 
tisements habitually  for  the  purpose  of  amusement,  rather 
than  "  silent  sympathy."  An  undemonstrative  Englishman 
is  sure  to  be  considered  phlegmatic,  if  not  cold-hearted,  in 
Germany.  Whatever  feeling  is  not  expressed  is  not  sup- 
posed  to  exist.  We  err  in  the  opposite  extreme,  of  con- 
cealing much  honest  and  noble  affection.  How  often  have 
I  heard  sincere  manly  friendship  made  a  taunt,  and  suspected 
love  a  subject  for  unmerciful  badinage  I 

But  Society  in  Germany  has  also  its  tyrannical  aspects. 
The  intercourse  between  the  unmarried  is  most  rigidly 
restricted;  the  interchange  of  visits  is  as  punctiliously 


ASPBCTB   OF  GKBMAN  SOdETT.  400 

regulated  as  in  any  other  part  of  the  world ;  and  the  dis 
tinction  between  the  various  social  degrees  is  still  showa 
in  many  ways.  Customs  and  forms  of  address  which  ought 
to  be  classed  among  the  obsolete  absurdities  of  the  Past, 
keep  their  place.  The  stranger,  in  a  new  neighborhood,  ii 
obliged  to  make  the  first  calls — a  custom  which  seems  the 
leverse  of  hospitable,  although  they  excuse  it  by  saying 
that  they  wish  to  leave  the  new-comer  free  to  select  his 
society. 

The  betrothed  must  make  a  formal  round  of  visits  to  aU 
their  relatives ;  the  newly-married  ditto ;  the  mother,  after 
confinement,  must  make  her  first  public  appearance  in 
church,  and  the  corpses  are  followed  to  the  grave  only  by 
males.  In  Weimar,  Altenburg,  and  other  remote  parts  of 
the  country,  the  superanuated  laws  of  this  sort  are  number- 
less. Nowhere  can  a  young  lady  walk  with  a  gentleman, 
unless  she  is  betrothed  to  him,  but  after  that  event  all 
restrictions  are  removed.  She  is  called  a  "  bride,"  her  lover 
a  "  bridegroom,"  and  each  is  at  once  considered  as  a  member 
of  the  other's  family. 

The  forms  of  address  are  exceedingly  awkward  and  incon- 
venient. Every  person  who  has  any  official  position,  must 
be  addressed  by  a  corresponding  title,  and  (good  news  to  the 
strong-minded !)  his  wife  takes  the  same,  with  a  feminine 
termination.  Thus,  if  Herr  Schmidt  happens  to  be  a  Comv 
sell  or  of  the  Superior  Court  of  Appeals,  it  is  a  violation  of 
etiquette  to  call  him  Herr  Schmidt.  You  must  say:  "  Herr 
Counsellor  of  the  Superior  Court  of  Appeals,  how  is  the 
Frau  Counselloress  of  the  Superior  Court  of  Appeals  ?  '* 
Even  the  Master-Shoemaker,  Herr  Duntz,  is  addressed  is 


466  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

the  Bame  way,  and  his  wife  would  be  mortified  if  yon  did 
not  greet  her  as  "  Mrs.  Master-Shoemakeress  Duntz. " 
Could  anything  be  more  comical  than  to  hear :  "  Mrs.  In- 
spector ess  of  Penitentiaries,  let  me  introduce  you  to  Miss 
Fire-insurance  Company's  Presidentess?" — and  yet  thii 
may  happen  any  day  in  Germany,  As  the  husband  climbs 
upwards  on  the  official  ladder,  his  wife  climbs  with  him. 
She  shares  his  ambition  and  his  triumphs,  and  rejoices  to  be 
called  "Madame  Field-Marshaless "  or  "Madame  Prime 
Ministress ;"  almost  as  much  as  if  herself  had  won  the  star 
or  baton. 

A  most  delightful  feature  of  German  life  is  the  conscien- 
tiousness with  which  domestic  anniversaries  are  observed 
and  celebrated.  No  birth-day  passes  by  unremembered : 
gifts,  even  if  trifling,  flowers,  and  the  favorite  dishes  at 
dinner  remind  each  one,  in  his  turn,  that  his  place  in  the 
world  is  still  warm.  The  married  celebrate  their  wedding- 
day,  and  Christmas  and  Pentecost  come  to  all.  I  am  glad 
that  we  are  gradually  naturalizing  the  fonner  festival,  and 
would  willingly  see  all  the  otliers  transplanted  into  our  soU, 
although,  when  such  customs  become  universal  and  inevita- 
ble, they  lose  something  of  that  spontaneity  which  is  their 
greatest  charm.  Our  life,  on  the  other  hand,  is  too  barren ; 
we  press  continually  forward,  on  a  hard,  hot,  stony  road, 
neglecting  every  tree  that  invites  us  to  rest  awhile  by  the 
wayside.  The  Germans  are  much  better  economists  than 
we.  Recreation  and  domestic  enjoyment  are  always  in 
eluded  in  the  estimate  of  expenses,  and  the  business  of  the 
household  is  managed  in  so  careful  and  systematic  a  manner, 
that  a  family  with  one  thousand  dollars  a  year  manages  to 


ASFBCrS   OF  GBBMAir  SOCIBTT.  489 

extract  much  more  enjoTment  fcom  existence,  than  most 
American  families  whose  incomes  are  triple  that  sum. 

I  have  heard  travellers  speak  of  the  bad  manners  of  the 
Germans;  of  their  heterogeneous  meals;  of  their  heaviness 
and  awkwardness;  and  of  their  uncomfortable  mode  of 
life.  Such  persons  generally  belong  to  that  class  whose 
standard  of  judgment  is:  "Zdon't  do  so  and  so:  therefore, 
the  people  are  wrong."  One  of  them,  whom  I  pressed 
closely  to  give  me  some  instances  of  bad  mannern,  finally 
stated  that  he  bad  seen  Germans  eating  fish  with  knives 
and  drinking  Champagne  out  of  Madeira  glasses!  The 
little  details  of  the  table  vary  in  different  countries,  and  in 
different  generations.  Sir  Philip  Sydney  drank  beer  for  his 
breakfast,  and  Queen  Elizabeth  picked  her  teeth  with  her 
fork.  Refinement  (by  which  I  mean  what  is  snobbishly 
termed  "  gentility")  does  not  consist  in  such  small  matters. 
He  was  a  gentleman  who  died  at  Zutphen,  even  though  he 
had  never  used  a  pocket-handkerchief.  An  American 
woman,  travelling  in  Germany,  minus  the  language,  has 
recently  published  a  volume  entitled  "Peasant  Life  in 
Germany,"  which  is  filled  with  the  grossest  blunders.  She 
measures  everything  she  sees  by  an  American  standard, 
as  if  that  were  the  only  admitted  test  of  excellence. 

There  is  this  lesson  to  be  derived  fi-om  an  intimate  ao- 
quaintance  with  other  lands  and  other  races — ^that  no  coun- 
try possesses  the  best.  The  advantages  and  disadvantages 
of  life  are  distributed  more  impartially  than  one  would 
suppose.  It  would  be  very  difficult  for  an  American  to 
endure  the  annoyances  of  living  under  European  laws,  but 
he  could  scarcely  fail  to  enjoy  the  order  and  secmity  pr© 


468  AT   HOMB  Ain>   ABBOAD. 

Failing  under  a  long-established  Govemment.  and  Uie 
freedom  of  a  matured  and  settled  Society.  With  complete 
political  independence,  we  must  still  endure  a  social 
tyranny.  The  opinion  of  the  community  in  which  we  live, 
with  regard  to  o\ir  own  opinions,  actions,  and  habits  of  life, 
18  the  Autocrat  that  rule*  us.  Where  this  public  opinion 
is  enlightened,  liberal,  and  generous,  very  well ;  no  home  in 
the  world  can  be  more  fortunate.  But  where  it  is  narrow 
and  uncharitable,  resist  it  and  you  will  become  a  social 
martyr. 


XXXVIIL 

A   TRUE  STORY. 


Ok  the  15th  of  October,  1856,  a  celebration  of  a  peculiar 
character  was  held  in  a  small  village  near  Jena.  It  was 
an  occasion  of  an  entirely  local  nature,  and  might  have 
passed  over  unobserved,  and  unknown  to  all,  except  the 
immediate  vicinity,  but  for  its  connexion  with  the  battle 
which,  fifty  years  and  one  day  before,  annihilated  the  power 
of  Prussia.  An  account  of  it,  however,  was  published  in 
most  of  the  German  newspapers,  and  through  this  circum- 
stance the  sequel  of  the  story  which  I  am  about  to  relate, 
was  brought  on.  At  the  time  the  celebration  took  place, 
I  was  residing  in  Gotha,  not  more  than  fifty  miles  from  the 
6pot,  and  received  the  story  almost  in  the  very  words  of 
the  chief  actor  in  it.  I  am  sorry  that  his  name,  and  that 
of  the  village,  have  escaped  my  memory.  All  other  parti- 
culars made  too  deep  an  impression  upon  my  mind  to  b« 
easily  forgotten. 


470  AT  HOMB  AND   ABBOAD. 

We  must  first  go  back  to  the  14th  of  October,  180« 
On  that  day  the  windy  uplands  north-east  of  Jena  wit- 
nessed the  brief  but  terrible  combat,  which  resulted  in  the 
triumphant  entry  of  the  French  army  into  Berlin,  eleven 
days  afterwards,  during  which  time  Prussia  had  lost 
60,000  men,  66  standards,  and  600  cannon.  A  portion  of 
the  French  army  was  encamped  on  the  battlefield,  or 
quartered  in  the  villages  around.  The  poor  inhabitants, 
overwhelmed  by  this  sudden  avalanche  of  war  upon  their 
quiet  fields,  where,  for  a  hundred  years  or  more,  they  had 
reaped  their  harvests  in  peace,  submitted  in  helpless  apathy 
while  their  houses  and  bams  were  plundered  by  the  law- 
less soldiery.  The  battle  was  over,  but  there  was  no  lull 
in  the  blast  of  ruin.  Through  the  clouds  of  cannon-smoke 
which  settled  into  the  bosoms  of  the  deep  valleys,  as  the 
raw  October  evening  came  on,  were  heard  in  all  directions 
shrieks  of  fear,  yells  of  rage  or  triumph,  and  cries  of  pain 
or  lamentation. 

Davoust,  the  "  Butcher  of  Hamburg**  (as  the  Germans 
call  him),  took  up  his  quarters  for  the  night  in  one  of  the 
most  convenient  and  comfortable  houses  which  could  be 
found  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  scene  of  slaughter.  Here 
he  rapidly  issued  orders  for  the  disposition  of  the  forces 
under  his  command,  gave  directions  for  the  morrow,  and 
received  reports  from  his  adjutants.  He  had  taken  hia 
doak,  and  was  about  retiring  to  an  inner  chamber  for 
repose,  when  an  officer  entered.  "  Pardon  me.  General," 
he  said,  "  but  here  is  a  case  which  requires  attention.  This 
German  canaille  must  be  taught  to  respect  us.  Ten 
soldiers  of  Company ,  of  the  Fourth  Infimtry,  whc 


A  TBUX  STOBY.  471. 

quartered  themselves  in  the  village  of  Waldorf  [let  us  say] 
have  been  diiven  away  by  the  people,  and  two  or  tlire< 
of  them  are  severely  injured." 

Davoust's  cold  eye  glittered,  and  his  moustache  curled 
like  the  lip  of  a  mastiff,  as  he  turned,  halting  a  moment  at 
the  door  of  the  bed-room.  "  Send  a  lieutenant  and  twenty 
men  to  the  village,  pick  out  any  ten  of  the  vagabonds  and 
shoot  them  down !"  was  his  brief  order.  "  Where  is  Wal- 
dorf?" he  added,  tm-ning  towards  one  of  those  useful  crea- 
tures who  are  always  willing  to  act  as  guides  and  interpre- 
ters for  the  enemy  in  their  own  land. 

"  There  is  a  village  called  Upper  Waldorf,  which  lies 
near  the  head  of  a  small  valley,  to  the  left.  Middle  Wal- 
dorf is  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill,  and  Lower  Waldorf 
about  half  an  hour's  distance  beyond." 

The  Marshal,  not  caring  to  annoy  himself  by  more  mi- 
nute inquiries,  went  to  bed.  If  ten  men  were  shot,  that 
was  sufficient. 

The  next  morning  at  sunrise.  Lieutenant  Lamotte,  with 
twenty  men,  marched  over  the  trampled  hills  to  seek  Wal- 
dorf. It  was  a  disagreeable  business,  and  the  sooner  it  was 
over  the  better.  On  reaching  a  ridge  which  overlooked 
the  intersection  of  two  or  three  valleys,  more  than  one  vil- 
lage was  visible  through  the  cold  fog,  now  beginning  to 
rise.  "  OH  est  Waldorf  f''''  inquired  the  officer,  of  a  peasant 
whom  he  had  impressed  by  the  way.  "  J)as^"  answered 
the  man,  "  ist  Ober-  Waldorf"  pointing  to  a  village  on  the 
left.  "  Mt  avant  I "  and  in  fifteen  minutes  more  th« 
Frenchmen  marched  into  the  little  hamlet. 

Halting  in  an  open  space  between  the  church  and  th« 


472  AT  BOMB  AND  ABBOAU. 

two  principal  beer-houses,  the  officer  summoned  the  inhabit 
ants  together.  The  whole  village  was  already  awake,  fol 
few  had  slept  during  the  night.  Their  ears  were  still 
stunned  by  the  thunders  of  yesterday,  and  visions  of  burn- 
ing and  pillage  still  danced  before  their  eyes.  At  the 
command  of  the  Lieutenant,  the  soldiers  seized  all  the  male 
inhabitants,  and  forcibly  placed  them  in  line  before  him.  The 
women  and  children  waited  near,  in  terrible  anxiety,  for  no 
one  understood  the  words  which  were  spoken,  and  these 
ominous  preparations  led  them  to  imagine  the  worst. 

At  this  juncture  the  son  of  the  village  pastor  appeared 
upon  the  scene.  He  was  a  young  man  of  twenty,  who  was 
studying  theology,  in  order  to  become  his  father's  succes- 
sor, and  fortunately  had  some  knowledge  of  French.  The 
appearance  of  things,  without  the  cries  and  entreaties  of 
the  terrified  people,  told  him  that  his  help  was  wanted ;  he 
immediately  addressed  himself  to  Lieut.  Lamotte,  and 
begged  for  an  explanation  of  the  proceedings. 

"  I  am  ordered  to  punish  this  village,"  answered  the  lat- 
ter, *'  for  your  treatment  of  some  of  our  soldiers  last  night. 
The  Marshal  orders  that  ten  of  you  must  be  shot.  The  only 
thing  I  can  do  is,  to  allow  you  to  draw  lots  among  your- 
selves, or  to  point  out  those  concerned  in  the  outrage.*' 

''  But,"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  "  your  General  has 
been  misinformed.  No  French  soldiers  have  visited  our 
rillage  before  you.  We  have  truly  been  in  great  fear  and 
anxiety  the  whole  night,  but  the  valley  is  deep,  and  the 
village  is  partly  concealed  from  view  by  the  wood  on  this 
side.  There  are  also  the  villages  of  Middle  and  Lower 
Waldorf  which  lie  further  down  in  the  open  valley.     Yoa 


▲  TBUB  STOBT.  478 

oan  soon  satisfy  yourself,  sir,  that  this  village  is  entirely 
innocent,  and  I  entreat  you  not  to  shed  the  blood  of  oui 
harmless  people."  "There  is  no  time  for  investigation," 
«aid  the  officer  ;  "  I  was  ordered  to  proceed  to  Waldorf 
4ud  I  am  guided  hither.  I  will  wait  until  you  make  youi 
ehoice  of  ten  to  be  sacrificed,  but  have  no  authority  to  do 
more." 

By  this  time  the  people  had  learned  the  fate  in  store  for 
them.  The  women,  with  tears  and  appealing  gestures, 
crowded  around  the  officer,  begging  him  to  spare  their 
sons  and  husbands;  the  men  stood  silent,  with  bloodless 
faces  and  dumb  imploring  eyes.  The  scene  was  evidently 
pain^l,  both  to  the  officer  and  the  soldiers,  accustomed  as 
they  were  to  the  unmerciful  code  of  war.  They  were 
anxious  to  put  an  end  to  it,  and  leave ;  but  the  clergyman'a 
son,  inspired  with  the  belief  that  the  fate  of  ten  men 
rested  upon  hie  efforts,  continued  to  urge  his  plea  with  a 
zeal  and  eloquence  that  would  not  be  set  aside.  Lieut, 
Lamotte  struggled  awhile  between  his  sense  of  duty  and 
his  natural  humanity,  while  the  young  advocate  appealed 
to  his  conscience  and  to  the  obedience  which  he  owed  to  a 
higher  Commander  than  Davoust.  Finally,  he  consented 
to  wait  whUe  a  sergeant  was  dispatched  to  headquarters, 
accompanied  by  a  peasant,  to  show  him  the  nearest  way. 
A  few  lines,  hastily  pencilled,  stated  the  facts  in  the  case, 
and  asked  for  further  instructions. 

Meanwhile  the  inhabitants  waited  in  a  state  of  suspense 
scarcely  to  be  endured.  Lieut.  Lamotte,  who,  as  a  thorough 
Frenchman,  soon  wearied  of  a  painful  emotion,  and  shook 
b  off  at  the  risk  of  appearing  heaitless,  said :— 


474  xc  HOMB  Ain>  abroad. 

•*  The  morning  iS  keen,  and  a  walk  before  sunriue  doei 
not  dimmish  the  appetite ;  can  you  give  us  some  refresh- 
ment from  your  hidden  supplies  ?  "  At  a  word  from  the 
young  man  many  of  the  women  brought  together  coffee^ 
which  they  had  prepared  for  their  own  breakfasts,  with 
black  bread,  mugs  of  beer,  and  a  small  cheese  or  two,  suffi 
oient  for  a  rough  meal,  of  which  the  soldiers  partook,  with 
the  usual  laughing  comments  on  "  la  cuisine  Allemande." 
The  company  of  victims  looked  on  in  silence,  and  more 
than  one  muttered  gloomily,  "  We  are  feeding  our  execn- 
tioners." 

"  Even  if  that  should  be  true,"  said  the  young  man,  "  it 
is  but  doing  as  Christ  has  taught  us.  Whether  or  not  we 
obt£un  Christian  charity  from  these  men,  let  us  at  least 
show  them  that  we  are  Christians." 

This  solemn  rebuke  had  its  effect.  A  few  of  the  men 
assisted  in  entertaining  the  soldiers,  and  the  latter,  with 
their  fecility  of  fraternization,  soon  made  themselves  at  home. 
As  the  stomach  fills  the  heart  also  enlarges,  and  the  mes 
began  to  say  among  themselves :  "  It  is  a  pity  these  goot^. 
fellows  should  be  shot  by  mistake." 

It  was  not  long  before  the  sergeant  and  his  guide 
amved.  The  former  handed  the  Lieutenant  a  note,  which 
he  hastily  tore  open  and  read : — "  Waste  no  more  time  in 
parley.  It  is  indifferent  which  village  is  punished  ;  an  ex- 
ample must  be  made.  Do  your  duty,  and  return  instantly.'' 
So  ran  the  pitiless  answer. 

"  Choose  your  men,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  rising  to  hu 
feet,  and  grinding  his  teeth  to  keep  down  his  faltermg  heart 
But  now  the  lamentations  broke  out  afresh.    The  women 


A  TKUB  STOBT.  475 

clnng  around  the  men  who  were  dear  to  them,  and  many 
of  the  latter,  overcome  by  the  general  distress,  uttered 
loud  cries  and  prayers  for  mercy.  The  young  man  kneh 
down  in  front  of  them,  saying  to  the  officer :  "  I  do  not 
kneel  to  you,  but  I  will  pray  to  God  that  He  may  remove 
the  sin  of  this  slaughter  from  your  souL" 

As  the  officer  met  his  earnest  eyes,  foil  of  a  sublime 
jalmness  and  courage,  his  own  suddenly  filled  with  tears. 
He  turned  to  his  men,  who  stood  drawn  up  in  line  behind 
him.  They  looked  at  him,  but  no  word  was  spoken.  Their 
hands  were  in  the  proper  place,  according  to  drill  regula- 
tions, and  there  were  drops  on  many  cheeks  which  they 
could  not  wipe  away.  There  was  a  silent  question  in  the 
officer's  eyes,  a  silent  answer  in  theirs.  The  former  turned 
again  hurriedly,  beckoned  the  young  man  to  him,  and 
whispered  in  an  agitated  voice  : — 

"  My  friend,  I  will  save  you  by  a  stratagem.  Choose 
ten  of  your  most  courageous  men,  place  them  in  line  be- 
fore me,  and  I  will  order  my  soldiers  to  shoot  them  through 
the  head.  At  the  instant  I  give  the  order  to  fire  they 
must  fall  flat  upon  the  ground.  My  soldiers  will  aim  high, 
and  no  one  will  be  injured.  As  soon  as  the  volley  b  fired 
I  will  give  the  order  to  march,  but  no  one  must  stir  from 
his  place  until  we  are  out  of  sight." 

These  words  were  instantly  translated  to  the  people,  but 
80  great  was  their  panic  that  no  one  offered  to  move.  The 
pastor's  son  then  took  his  place,  alone,  in  the  vacant  space 
before  the  line  of  soldiers.  "  I  offer  myself,"  said  he,  "  as 
one,  trusting  in  God  that  we  shall  all  be  saved,  and  I  call 
apon  those  of  you  who  have  the  hearts  of  men  in  jont 


476  AT  nOUE  AND  ABROAD. 

bodies,  to  stand  beside  me.*'  Young  Conrad,  a  sturdy 
farmer,  and  but  newly  a  bridegroom,  joined  him,  casting,  as 
he  did  so,  a  single  encouraging  look  upon  his  future  wife, 
who  turned  deadly  pale,  but  spoke  not  a  word.  One  by 
one,  as  men  who  have  resolved  to  face  death — for  the  most 
of  them  had  but  a  trembling  half-confidence  in  their  escape 
eight  others  walked  out  and  took  their  places  in  line.  The 
women  shuddered  and  hid  their  eyes;  the  men  looked 
steadily  on  in  the  fascination  of  terror,  and  the  little  chil 
dren  in  awed  but  ignorant  curiosity.  The  place  was  as  silent 
as  if  devoid  of  life. 

Again  the  Lieutenant  surveyed  his  men.  "  Take  aim  1" 
ae  commanded — "  aim  at  their  heads,  that  your  work  may 
be  well  done !"  But  though  his  voice  was  clear  and  strong, 
and  the  tenor  of  his  words  not  to  be  mistaken,  a  clairvoyant 
flash  of  hidden  meaning  ran  down  the  line,  and  the  men 
understood  him.  Then  came  the  last  command,  "  Fire  /" 
but  in  the  second  which  intervened  between  the  word 
and  the  ringing  volley,  the  ten  men  were  already  falling. 
The  crack  of  the  muskets  and  the  sound  of  their  bodies  as 
they  struck  the  earth,  were  simultaneous.  Without  paus- 
ing an  instant,  the  Lieutenant  cried  "  Right  about,  wheel !" 
"  Forward l"*"*  and  the  measured  tramp  of  the  soldiers  rang 
down  the  narrow  village  street. 

The  women  imcovered  their  eyes  and  gazed.  There  lay 
the  ten  men,  motionless  and  apparently  lifeless.  'With  wild 
©nes  they  gathered  around  them,  but  ere  their  exclamations 
of  despair  were  turned  into  those  of  joy,  the  last  of  the 
soldiers  had  disappeared  in  the  near  wood.  Then  followed 
weeping  embraces,  as  all  arose  fron:  the  ground,  laughter 


▲  TBVB  BTOBT.  477 

and  sobs  of  hysterical  joy.  The  pastor's  son,  imcovering 
his  head,  knelt  down,  and,  while  all  reverently  followed  hia 
example,  uttered  an  eloquent  prayer  of  thanksgiving  foi 
their  merciful  deliverance. 

What  this  young  man  had  done  was  not  suffered  to  gc 
unrewarded.  A  blessing  rested  upon  his  labors  and  his  life. 
In  the  course  of  time  he  became  a  clergyman,  filling  foi 
awhile  his  father's  place  for  the  people  he  had  saved,  but  was 
afterwards  led  to  seek  a  Avider  and  more  ambitious  sphere. 
He  was  called  to  Leipzig,  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Divinity,  and  finally  became  known  throughout  Germany 
as  the  founder  of  the  Gustav  Adolf- Verein  (Gustavus 
Adolphus  Union),  which  has  for  its  object  the  dissemination 
of  Protestant  principles  by  means  of  voluntary  contribu- 
tions. In  some  respects  it  resembles  the  Home  Missions 
of  our  own  country.  Many  churches  built  by  the  asso- 
ciation are  now  scattered  through  the  German  States,  many 
poor  clergymen  are  assisted  and  other  religious  works 
advanced.  It  has  become  a  permanent  and  successfid 
society. 

The  inhabitants  of  Waldorf  never  forgot  their  pastor,  nor 
he  them.  He  came  back  from  time  to  time  to  spend  a  few 
days  in  the  quiet  little  village  where  much  of  his  youth,  and 
the  most  eventful  crisis  of  his  life  was  passed.  In  1 856,  three 
out  of  the  ten  pseudo-victims  of  Davoust  were  still  living  in 
their  old  homes,  and  the  people  bethought  them  that  the 
semi-centennial  anniversary  of  such  an  event  deserved  a 

special  celebration.    Dr. of  Leipzig  (formerly  the 

pastor's  son)  was  invited  to  be  with  them.  He  came — ^he 
iroald  have  oome  from  the  ends  of  the  earth — and  after  a 


478  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

Boletnn  and  religious  service  in  the  church  proceeded  to  th€ 
very  spot  on  which  he  had  stood  and  faced  the  French 
muskets,  and  there  related  to  the  children  and  grand- 
children of  those  he  had  saved,  the  narrative  which  I  have 
here  given  in  less  moving  and  eloquent  words.  Those  who 
were  present  describe  the  scene  as  having  been  singularly 
impressive  and  affecting.  The  three  old  men  sat  near  him 
as  he  spoke,  and  the  emotions  of  that  hour  of  trial  were  so 
vividly  reproduced  in  their  minds,  that  at  the  close  they 
laughed  and  wept  as  they  had  done  on  the  same  day  fifty 
years  before. 

In  conclusion  the  speaker  referred  to  the  officer  whose 
'anmane  stratagem  had  preserved  their  lives.  "  Since  that 
day,"  said  he,  "  I  have  never  heard  of  him.  I  did  not  even 
learn  his  name,  but  he  is  ever  remembered  in  my  thoughts 
and  prayers.  Most  probably  he  died  a  soldier's  death  on 
one  of  the  many  fields  of  slaughter  which  intervened 
between  Jena  and  Waterloo ;  but  if  he  should  still  be  living 
it  would  cheer  my  last  days  on  earth  if  I  could  reach  him 
with  a  single  word  of  gratitude." 


In  the  same  year  there  lived — and  no  doubt  still  is  living 
—in  Lyons,  an  invalided  and  pensioned  Captain  of 'the 
Napoleonic  wars.  After  a  life  of  vicissitudes  he  found  him- 
self in  his  old  age,  alone,  forgotten,  and  poor.  Men  no 
braver  and  better  than  he  had  achieved  distinction  by  some 
lucky  chance ;  fortune  had  come  to  others,  and  others  had 
begotten  children  to  cheer  and  vitalize  their  declining  days. 


A   TSUB   STOBY.  47f) 

Him  the  world  had  passed  by,  and  for  years  he  had  been 
living  a  quiet,  silent,  pinched  life,  by  the  aid  of  his  scanty 
pension.  His  daily  resort  was  a  cai^,  where  he  could  se« 
and  read  the  principal  European  journals,  and  perhaps  mea" 
Bure  the  changed  politics  of  the  present  tiine  by  the  expe- 
riences of  his  past  life. 

One  day  in  November,  1856,  he  entered  the  caf^  aa 
usual,  took  his  accustomed  seat,  and  picked  up  the  nearest 
paper.  It  happened  to  be  the  Augsburg  Allgemeine  Zei- 
tung ;  but  he  had  spent  some  years  in  Germany,  and 
understood  the  language  tolerably.  His  attention  was 
attracted  by  a  letter  dated  Jena.  "  Jena  ?"  he  thinks — "  I 
was  there  too.  What  is  going  on  there  now  ?"  He  reads 
a  little  further— "  Celebration  at  Waldorf?  Waldorf? 
The  name  is  familiar:  where  have  I  heard  it?"  As  he 
continues  his  perusal,  the  old  captain's  excitement,  so 
unusual  a  circumstance,  attracts  the  attention  of  the  other 
habitues  of  the  caf^.  '•'■  Grand  Dieu  !  Davoust — Waldorf 
— ^the  ten  men — ^the  pastor's  son!  Did  I  dream  such  a 
thing,  or  is  it  the  same  ?"  Forgotten  for  years  and  years 
^-effaced  by  a  hundred  other  military  adventures — over- 
laid and  lost  in  the  crowded  stores  of  a  soldier's  memory, 
the  scene  came  to  light  again.  The  pastor's  son  still  lived, 
still  remembered  and  thanked  the  preserver  of  his  native 
village !  Many  a  long  year  had  passed  since  such  a  glow 
warmed  the  chambers  of  the  old  man's  heart. 

That  evening  he  wrote  to  Dr. ,  in  Leipzig. 

The  latter  was  ill,  and  but  a  few  months  from  his  last 
hour,  but  the  soldier's  letter  seemed  like  a  providential 
Bnswer  to  his  prayers,  and  brightened  the  flickering  dose 


480  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

of  bis  life.  A  manly  and  affectionate  correspondence  waa 
carried  on  between  the  two  while  the  latter  lived.  The 
circumstance  became  public,  and  the  deed  was  officially 
recognised  in  a  way  most  flattering  to  the  pride  of  Capt 
Lamotte.  The  Grand  Duke  of  Saxe-Weimar  and  the  King 
of  Saxony  conferred  upon  him  the  orders  of  their  respective 
houses,  which  were  followed  soon  afterwards  by  the  Cross 
of  the  Legion  of  Honor  fi-om  Louis  Napoleon,  and  an 
increase  of  his  pension  which  assured  him  ease  and  comfort 
for  the  remainder  of  his  life.  A  translation  of  the  Dr.'s 
narrative,  published  in  the  French  papers,  drew  attention 
to  him,  and  he  was  no  longer  a  neglected  frequenter  of  the 
onf^.  He  was  known  and  honored,  even  without  his  orders. 
"  Caist  tby  bread  upon  the  waters,  and  thou  shalt  find  it 
again,  aiter  many  daya." 


XXXIX. 

THE   LANDSCAPES    OP   THE   WORLD. 


rBLE  doctrine  of  "Correspondences'* — a  system  of  parallelfl 
between  the  material  and  spiritual  world — which  forms  so 
prominent  an  element  in  Swedenborgian  Faith,  asserts  its 
truth  in  one  respect,  to  the  mind  of  every  man  who  has 
travelled  much.  Landscapes  exhibit  almost  as  great  a 
variety  of  expression  as  the  human  face — they  embrace  all 
moods  and  all  characters  in  their  infinite  scale.  Nature  is 
both  refined  and  savage,  poetic  and  vulgar,  friendly  and 
cruel,  beautiful  and  repialsive.  Who  has  not  felt,  a  thou 
sand  times,  the  sentiment  of  Leigh  Hunt's  lines : 

•*  And  all  the  landscape — earth,  and  sea,  and  sky, 
Breathed  like  a  bright-eyed  face,  that  laughs  out  openly." 

Some  regions  of  the  earth  are  as  tame  and  barren  as  th« 
miods  of  certain  communities ;  others  bask  in  superb  opiv 


482  AT   HOKE   AND   ABBOAD. 

ienec,  and  squander  their  boundless  stores  of  beauty;  and 
others  again,  rise  in  their  unexpected  sublimity  and  power, 
as  &r  above  the  average  character  of  sceneiy,  as  geniofi 
rises  above  the  ordinary  level  of  the  human  mind. 

Nature  has  her  masterpieces  in  every  department  of  hei 
realm.  There  is,  if  we  knew  it,  somewhere  upon  the  earth 
one  river  which  transcends  all  other  streams — one  moun- 
tain whose  majesty  stands  unapproached — one  coast  which 
makes  the  voyager  forget  (Ul  oir  er  shores — and  one  valley 
where  the  bee  finds  his  sweetest  honey  and  the  winds  their 
most  delicious  balm.  I  might  demonstrite  thii  ^th  all 
the  ease  oi  a  proposition  in  Euclid,  without  being  able  to 
name  any  one  of  those  favored  spots — for  who  has  ever 
beheld,  or  ever  shall  behold,  all  the  landscapes  of  the  world  ? 

We  must  not  be  too  hasty  in  trusting  to  the  individual 
(ikings  of  travellers.  Many  persons  are  thrown  into  rap- 
tures by  a  beautiful  view,  the  expression  of  which  touches 
some  taste  or  passion  of  their  own.  Scotland  is  more  en- 
joyed, by  most  Americans,  than  Switzerland,  and  Rome 
makes  a  profounder  impression  than  Athens:  yet  in  the 
Gallery  of  Nature,  the  order  of  excellence  is  reversed. 
Every  country  has  its  chosen  landscapes,  which  you  must 
see,  or  you  have  missed  "the  finest  sight  in  the  world." 
The  Neapolitan  says :  "  See  Naples  and  then  die ;"  "  Who 
has  not  in  Granada  been,  verily,  he  has  nothing  seen,"  is 
the  Spanish  proverb ;  "  I  will  not  look  upon  Damascus,  lest 
I  should  cease  to  desire  Paradise,"  was  the  exclamation  of 
Mohammed.  The  central  point  of  beauty  and  of  grandeur, 
b  Humboldt's  memories  of  scenery,  was  Cliimborazo. 

Do  not  ask  me  now  "  whi(^h  is  the  finest  landscape  in  tbe 


THE  LANDSCAPES  OF  THE  WOBLD.  488 

irorld  ?"  because  it  would  be  as  difficult  as  to  decide  which 
was  the  best  man  you  ever  knew.  But  with  regard  tc 
separate  features  there  is  less  embarrassment.  The  grandest 
river  in  Europe  is  the  Danube :  but  for  his  long  intervals 
)f  monotonous  plain,  he  would  be  the  grandest  in  the  world 
The  Rhine  has  his  phases  of  extreme  beauty — ^likewise  the 
Rhone,  the  Elbe,  the  Connecticut,  and  the  Ohio.  None  of 
the  great  main  arteries  of  Continents — ^the  Mississippi,  the 
Amazon,  the  Nile,  the  Volga,  and  the  Yang-tse-B[iang — 
exhibit  a  beauty  of  landscaj^e  proportioned  to  their  length 
and  volume.  The  main  characteristic  of  their  scenery — 
however  exquisite  it  may  be  in  detail — ^is  monotony.  But 
there  is  one  river  which,  from  its  source  to  the  ocean,  un- 
rolls a  long  chain  of  landscapes  wherein  there  is  no  tame 
feature,  but  each  successive  A^ew  presents  new  combinations 
of  beauty  and  majesty — which  other  rivers  may  sui-pass  in 
sections,  but  none  rival  as  a  whole — ^and  its  name  is.  The 
Hudson. 

As  for  cataracts,  Niagara,  in  tremendous  volume,  drowns 
all  others.  The  foamy  whispers  of  Alpine  streamlets  are 
unheard  beside  it.  But  water  is  Protean  in  its  forms  and 
movements,  and  there  are  miracles  of  beauty  which  you 
oannot  find  clinging  to  the  mighty  emerald  planes  of  our 
great  fall.  The  Rhine  at  Schaffhausen  winnows  a  stormy 
chaflf  of  diamonds:  the  Throllhatta,  in  Sweden,  tosses  up 
globes  of  pink-tinted  spray;  the  Aar  descends  like  an 
avalanche  of  silver  cauliflowers,  and  the  Riukan,  in  Nor- 
way, flutters  into  scarfs  of  the  richest  lace.  Each  of  these 
^has  its  individual  charm  and  fascination,  but  Niagara  is  tne 
Titan  m  whose  presence  you  stand  dumb. 


484  AT   HOMS   AND   ABROAD. 

An  Englishman  will  probably  tell  you  that  the  Isle  oi 
Wight  is  the  most  beautiful  island  ai  the  world.  A  New 
Yorker  will  mention  Staten  Island ;  an  Italian  point  to  the 
rocky  lion  of  Capri,  and  an  East-Indian  think  of  Ceylou. 
Having  never  seen  Madeira,  or  Oahu,  or  palmy  Nukaheva, 
or  Upolo,  in  the  Samoan  group,  I  am  not  capable  of  decid- 
mg;  but  of  all  the  islands  upon  which  I  ever  set  foot, 
Penang  is  far  the  loveliest.  Not  more  than  ten  miles  in 
length,  it  rises  on  one  side  into  a  group  of  mountains,  2500 
feet  high,  while  on  the  other  it  spreads  out  its  level 
orchards  of  nutmeg  and  cinnamon  trees  to  the  sun.  East- 
ward, across  emerald  water  and  snowy  reefs  of  coral,  you 
see  the  shores  of  Malacca,  and  westward,  beyond  the  pur- 
ple sea,  the  volcanic  peaks  of  Sumatra.  Cold  is  unknown, 
but  the  tropical  heats  are  never  oppressive.  The  air  be- 
wilders you  with  its  fragrance,  the  trees  and  flowers  charm 
you  with  their  beauty.    The  island  is  a  miniature  Eden, 

"  Where  fialls  not  rain,  or  hail,  or  any  snow, 
Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly ;  but  it  lies 
Deep-meadowed,  happy,  fair  with  orchard-lawns 
And  bowery  boUows  crowned  with  summer  se&" 

With  the  exception  of  the  Altai  and  the  Andes  of  South 
America,  I  have  seen  the  piincipal  mountain  chains  of  the 
world,  besides  the  most  renowned  isolated  groups  and 
separate  peaks.  Here,  again,  there  are  differences  of  glory. 
The  Alps  boast  the  contrast  of  pastoral  loveliness  with  the 
icy  desolation  of  the  glaciers ;  the  Taurus  has  its  tremen- 
dous defiles  and  gorges,  and  the  Himalayas  their  snowy 
wedges  of  supernatural  height  and  brilliancy.    But  there 


CHIE   .JLNDSCAFBS   OF  TH£   WOSLD.  485 

is  one  mountain,  which,  having  once  seen,  you  acknow 
ledge  ever  afterwards  as  monarch.  This  is  the  Peak  of  Ori 
zaba,  in  Mexico.  The  Andes  of  Ecuador  rise  from  a  tablo 
land  9,000  feet  above  the  sea;  the  loftiest  summits  of 
the  Himalayas  lie  behind  two  lower  chains,  the  High  Alps 
Are  buttressed  on  all  sides — but  Orizaba  ascends  in  one 
apiendid  sweep  from  the  level  of  a  tropical  sea  to  the 
height  of  18,000  feetl 

Standing  on  the  mountain-terrace  of  Jalapa,  which  ia 
between  four  and  five  thousand  feet  above  the  Gulf  of  Mex- 
ico, you  see  the  entire  mountain,  like  a  colossal  picture 
painted  on  the  blue  background  of  the  air.  Leagues  upon 
leagues  of  palm  forests  cover  the  level,  sandy  plain  made  by 
the  retrocession  of  the  sea  which  once  washed  bis  feet. 
Then  there  are  plantations  of  orange  and  coflfee  trees; 
higher  up,  woods  of  chestnut  and  oak ;  higher  still,  a  broad, 
dark  belt  of  pine,  then,  naked  rock,  and  finally  commenc- 
ing four  thousand  feet  below  the  summit,  the  region  of 
eternal  snow !  The  mountain  is  a  steep  and  perfect  cone, 
leaning,  on  its  western  side,  against  the  table-land  of 
Mexico.  In  certain  conditions  of  the  atmosphere,  it  is 
visible  at  a  distance  of  two  hundred  miles,  consequently  the 
rays  of  the  morning  sun  do  not  reach  its  base  until  nearly 
fifteen  minutes  after  they  have  gilded  its  summit,  and  the 
immaculate  peak  shines  like  a  blazing  star  in  the  sky,  when 
the  rapid  twilight  of  the  Tropics  has  already  darkened 
Jalapa. 

All  these,  however,  are  but  single  features  of  a  landscape, 
and  the  downing  triumph  of  Nature  is  the  grouping  ol 
them  togeth  ir  in  an  order  which  shall  heighten  the  eSed 


466  AT  HOME  Am)  ABROAD. 

of  each^  thereby  producing  a  picture  perfect  an  1  sablime 
Iff  as  Mr.  Tupper  modestly  desires,  we  had  the  Andes 
rising  on  either  side  of  Niagara,  the  Cataract  would  gain 
ttothing  in  eflfect  thereby.  On  the  other  hand  Mountains 
and  the  Sea  are  foils  to  each  other ;  so  are  grim  precipioea 
and  flowery  meadows,  white,  glittering  cities,  and  ranges 
of  bare  blue  hills.  Nature,  at  some  times  a  bungler,  is  at 
other  times  a  divine  artist.  Give  her  a  broad  canvas,  rich 
colors,  and  the  forms  in  which  she  most  delights,  and  she 
occasionally  produces  pictures  which  seem  to  belong  to 
8ome  happy  planet  nearer  the  sun,  rather  than  to  this 
imperfect  Earth  of  ours. 

The  Orientals  have  their  four  famous  Gardens  of  Asia,  the 
charms  of  which  have  been  celebrated  in  their  poetry  for 
many  a  hundred  years.  They  are :  Damascus,  Shiraz,  Sa- 
marcand,  and  Cashmere.  To  these  Broussa  was  added  by 
the  Ottomans,  while  Granada  was  assigned  a  still  higher 
place  by  the  poets  of  Saracenic  Spain.  But  the  beauty  of  a 
.andscape,  to  the  Oiiental  eye,  consists  in  its  abundance 
of  verdure,  traversed  by  running  streams — ^a  combination 
of  shade,  coolness,  and  grateful  color,  which  only  those  can 
properly  appreciate  to  whom  yellow  sand,  and  scorched 
red  hills,  quivering  in  heat,  are  the  habitual  features  of  the 
Earth.  Enclose  such  a  picture  in  a  frame  of  mountains, 
some  of  which  rise  to  the  region  of  snow,  and  they  can 
imagine  nothing  more  beautiful. 

They  are  so  far  right,  that  the  masterpieces  of  landscape 
most  be  sought  either  within  the  Tropics,  or  upon  their 
borders.  A  view  which  at  times  is  dark  and  lifeless,  or 
oolorleeet  with  snow,  gives  no  complete  satis&ction  to  iht 


THB  LANDSCAPES    OF   THE   WOKLD.  489 

mind.  Edinburgh,  from  Arthur's  Seat,  and  Florence  from 
Fiesole,  are  superb  in  summer,  and  imposing  at  all  times; 
but  we  cannot  award  them  the  first  place.  No  city  in  the 
world  presents  such  a  wonderful  picture  as  Constantinople, 
V  seen-  from  the  entrance  of  the  Bosphorus ;  Naples  and 
liio  Janeiro  are  scarcely  inferior,  but  in  them  that  dazzling, 
fairy  architecture,  which  seems  to  belong  to  the  realm  of 
dreams,  is  wanting. 

Of  the  many  thousands  of  landscapes  which  have  de- 
lighted my  eyes,  there  are  four  which  remain  indelibly 
impressed  upon  my  memory,  as  supreme  in  all  the  elements 
of  beauty  and  majesty — four  pictures,  each  of  which,  in  my 
gallery,  occupies  a  hall  of  its  own,  wherein  no  inferior  work 
shall  ever  be  placed.  They  are:  the  Vega  of  Granada, 
Damascus,  Broussa,  and  the  Valley  of  Mexico.  In  attempt- 
ing to  paint  them,  with  paper  for  canvas,  and  words  for 
colors,  I  feel  more  sensibly  than  ever  the  imperfection  of 
all  human  speech.  Even  could  I  select  the  special  capaci- 
ties of  all  cultivated  languages,  and  use  them  as  so  many 
pure  pigments — could  I  describe  the  forests  in  German,  the 
sea  in  Swedish,  the  mountains  in  English,  the  running 
streams  in  Italian,  and  the  cities  in  Spanish — I  should  still 
achieve  but  a  partial  success.  For  words  lack  perspective  • 
they  cannot  truly  represent  the  successive  planes  of  dis- 
tance ;  the  crystal  sea,  which,  invisible  in  itself,  yet  tintt 
the  mountains,  near  and  far,  with  an  enchanting  scale  of 
color,  nor  those  subtle  phases  of  expression  which  seem  to 
be  independent  of  the  forms  of  Nature. 

het  us  first  look  upon  Granada — a  landscape  more 
limited  in  extent  than  either  of  the  others,  yet  lacking  no 


488  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAS. 

important  feature.  Climbing  the  long  street  of  the  Dan-o, 
we  enter  the  Albaycin,  an  ancient  Moorish  suburb,  from 
the  crumbling  parapets  of  which  the  eye  takes  in  at  one 
glance,  the  city,  the  Alhambra,  the  Vega,  and  its  ring  of 
enoircling  mountains.  Across  the  deep  gorge  through 
H'hich  the  Darro  issues  from  the  hills,  rises  the  headland 
crowned  by  the  palace  of  the  Moorish  Kings,  the  huge  red 
towers  of  which  stand  out  in  massive  relief  against  the  dark 
purple  background  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  The  summit  of 
this  single  group  of  mountains  rises  nearly  to  the  height  of 
the  Jungfrau,  and  their  sides  ol  dark-red  rocks  are  streaked 
with  fields  of  eternal  snow.  To  the  right,  beyond  the  gay, 
glittering  city,  stretches  for  twenty-five  miles  the  blooming 
Vega — a  huge  parterre  of  gardens,  olive  groves,  fields,  and 
forests,  dotted  with  white  towers  and  palace-fronts,  and 
lighted  by  shining  glimpses  of  the  winding  Xenil.  Across 
the  glorious  plain  towers  the  huge  mountfdn  of  Parapanda, 
while  a  chain  of  lesser  heights  incloses  it  on  all  sides. 
Beautiful  as  the  details  of  the  landscape  are,  its  breadth, 
and  grandeur,  and  splendor  of  coloring  are  the  charms 
which  hold  you  captive. 

The  view  of  Damascus,  from  the  Salahiyeh — ^the  last 
slope  of  the  Anti-Lebanon — is  less  perfectly  proportioned, 
but  more  dazzling.  It  is  transfigured  by  the  magic  of  the 
Orient.  From  the  mountain-chain  whose  ridges  heave 
behind  you,  until,  in  the  south,  they  terminate  in  the 
snowy  head  of  Mount  Hermon,  the  great  Syrian  plain 
stretches  away  to  the  Euphrates,  broken,  at  distances  of 
ten  and  fifteen  miles,  by  two  detached  groups  of  moun- 
tains.   The  far  horizon  of  sand  quivers  in  a  flush  of  roseate 


THE  L.AJSDSCAPES  OP  THB  WORLD.  489 

heat.  In  a  terrible  gorge  at  your  side,  the  rirer  Barrada 
(the  ancient  Pharpar)  forces  its  way  to  the  plain,  and  ita 
waters,  divided  into  twelve  different  channels,  make  all 
between  you  and  those  blue  island-hills  of  the  desert  one 
great  garden,  the  boundaries  of  which  your  vision  can 
barely  distinguish.  Its  longest  diameter  cannot  be  less 
than  twenty  miles.  You  look  down  upon  an  immense  lake 
of  foliage,  and  fruit,  and  blossoms,  the  hue  of  which,  by 
contrast  with  the  barren  mountains  and  the  red  rim  of  the 
desert,  seems  brighter  than  aU  other  gardens  in  the  world. 
Through  its  centre,  following  the  course  of  tho  river,  lies 
Damascus — a  line  of  white  walls,  domes,  lowers,  and 
sparkling  minarets,  winding  away  for  seven  miles  through 
the  green  sea !  In  this  magnificent  picture  you  have  the 
contrasts  of  fire  and  snow — of  eternal  desolation  and 
eternal  bloom. 

The  finest  view  of  Broussa  is  from  the  east,  on  the  road 
into  the  interior  of  Asia  Minor.  Thence  you  overlook  the 
entire  valley,  which,  thirty  miles  long  by  five  in  breadth, 
stretches  away  to  the  westward,  between  the  mighty  mass 
of  the  Mysian  Olympus  on  the  one  side,  and  a  range  of 
lofty  mountains  on  the  other.  The  base  of  Olympus  is  a 
vast  sloping  terrace,  leagues  in  length,  resembling  th' 
flights  of  steps  by  which  the  ancient  temples  were  ap 
preached.  From  this  foundation  rise  four  great  pyraraidfi 
wo  thousand  feet  in  height,  and  completely  mantled  with 
forests.  Piled  upon  these  are  four  leaser  ones,  above  whose 
green  pinnacles  appear  still  other  and  higher,  bare  and  bleak, 
and  clustering  thickly  together,  to  uphold  the  central  dome 
of  snow.    The  sides  of  the  lower  ranges,  on  either  band 


490  AT  HOMS   AXD   ABBOAD. 

present  a  charming  mixture  of  forest  and  cultivated  laud 
Far  in  advance,  under  the  last  headland  which  Olympui 
throws  out  towards  the  Sea  of  Marmora,  the  hundred 
minarets  of  Broussa  stretch  in  a  white  and  glittering  line, 
Hke  the  masts  of  a  navy,  whose  hulls  are  buried  in  the  leafy 
sea.  No  words  can  describe  the  beauty  of  the  valley,  the 
blending  of  the  richest  cultivation  with  the  wildest  natural 
luxuriance.  Here  are  gardens  and  orchards ;  there,  grovef 
of  superb  chestnut-trees  in  blossom ;  here,  fields  of  golden 
grain  or  green  pasture-land ;  there.  Arcadian  thickets, 
overgrown  with  clematis  and  wild  roses ;  here,  lofty  pop- 
lars beside  the  streams ;  there,  spiry  cypresses  looking 
down  from  the  slopes — and  all  blended  in  one  whole,  so 
rich,  so  grand,  so  gorgeous,  that  you  scarcely  breathe 
when  it  first  bursts  upon  you.  The  only  feature  which 
you  miss  is  the  gleam  of  water. 

In  the  valley  of  Mexico,  however — the  grandest  of 
these  four  landscapes — ^this  want  is  supplied.  Whether 
you  behold  it  from  the  rock  of  Chepultepec,  or  from  under 
the  pines  of  Iztaccihuatl,  the  great  lakes  of  Chalco  ai>d 
Tezcuco  form  crystal  mirrors  for  the  mighty  peaks  which 
look  down  upon  the  valley.  The  landscape  has  a  diameter 
of  a  hundred  miles,  and  the  average  height  of  the  moun- 
tains which  enframe  it  cannot  be  less  than  twelve  thousand 
foet.  Above  this  majestic  wall  shoot  the  broken,  snowy 
summits  of  Iztaccihuatl  and  the  Nevada  of  Toluca,  and 
the  solitary  cone  of  Popocatapetl.  The  view  seems  to 
embrace  a  world  at  a  glance.  In  the  centre  lies  the  city 
with  its  white  palaces  and  towers,  like  silver  in  the  sun  ;  all 
around  it  are  gardens,  fields  of  aloes,  embowered  villager 


TKB  LANDSCAPES    OF  THS    WOSLD.  491 

and  convents,  cypress  forests  and  orange  groves ;  then,  the 
flashing  of  the  great  lakes,  dim  fields,  and  feint  villages  in 
the  distances ;  and  lastly,  the  embaying  curves  of  the 
mountains,  now  projected  near  in  rugged  and  barren 
grandeur,  now  receding  into  purple  distance,  or  seeming 
to  overhang  their  bases,  in  the  delusive  nearness  of  their 
dazzling  snows.  When  a  few  scattering  clouds  are  in  the 
sky,  and  moving  belts  of  golden  light  and  violet  shadow 
lend  their  alternate  magic  *f>  'beso  grand  and  wonderful 
features,  you  can  only  say,  agam  and  again,  "  This  is  tie 
one  irreat  landscape  of  the  woHd  *  >* 


XL. 

PREFERENCES,    AFTER    SEEING    THE    WORLD. 


Thb  traveller,  one  would  suppose,  must  necessarily  become 

an  optimist,  an  eclectic,  since  he  has  an  opportunity  of  learn- 
ing what  is  best  in  the  varied  life  of  the  world.  Yet,  my 
friend,  a  little  reflection  will  show  you  that  a  considerable 
amount  of  philosophy  is  necessary,  to  enable  him  to  go 
through  with  such  a  range  of  experience,  and  therefore, 
that  even  after  he  has  learned  all  that  is  best  of  its  kind,  he 
is  scarcely  the  man  to  complain  that  he  cannot  enjoy  the 
same  in  his  own  person.  In  fact,  he  must  possess  many 
standards  of  comparison — wide  ranges  of  observation — 
before  he  is  capable  of  deciding  what  is  best,  and  long 
before  that  period  arrives,  there  will  be  little  of  the  Epi 
curean  element  left  in  his  nature. 

To  begin  with  a  paradox :  he  is  best  adapted  for  a  tra 
veller  who  is  capable  of  the  strongest  local  attachments. 
Without  this  obaracteristic,  he  will  never  thoroughly  appr» 


PBSFBBSNCSS,   AFTXB   S£SING   THS  'VVOBLD.  493 

cdate  the  sentiment  of  scenery,  the  signiiicanoe  of  popular 
customs,  or  the  thousand  vaiying  traits  of  domestic  life,  in 
other  countries.  At  the  splendid  court  of  Kubla  Khan, 
the  Polos  never  forgot  Venice ;  Ibn  Batuta,  after  twenty- 
five  years  of  wandering,  returned  to  die  at  the  foot  of  his 
native  Atlas,  and  the  last  pages  from  Park,  on  the  Niger, 
contained  a  remembrance  of  Scotland.  It  was  once  my 
good  fortune  to  have  in  my  hands,  for  a  month,  the  Russian 
and  Siberian  journals  of  John  Ledyard,  together  with  a 
number  of  his  letters  to  his  relatives  in  America ;  and  what 
most  struck  me  in  the  perusal  of  the  &ded  lines,  was  the 
warmth  and  tenderness  of  his  attachment  to  early  associa- 
tions. But  the  co-existence  of  a  travelled  brain  and  an 
untraveUed  hearty  is  what  few  people  can  understand. 

A  thousand  times  a  year  (at  a  moderate  estimate),  I  hear 
the  question :  "  Now,  you  have  seen  all  parts  of  the  world, 
which  do  you  prefer  ?  "  Of  course  but  one  answer  can  be 
given,  and  the  question  is  no  doubt  sometimes  asked  for 
the  gratification  of  hearing  it.  An  American  thinks :  "  We 
are  the  grandest  nation  in  all  creation ;  we  have  the  best 
form  of  government,  the  finest  scenery,  the  richest  soil,  and 
the  most  moral  and  intelligent  population."  When  he  asks 
"  Where  would  you  rather  live  ?"  and  you  answer,  "  Where 
I  was  born,"  it  is  a  pleasant  confirmation  of  this  opinion- 
yet  the  reply  by  no  means  includes  so  much.  No  conntrj 
has,  or  ever  can  have,  all  that  is  best.  The  magic  that  lies 
in  the  word  "  Home  "  reconciles  us  to  many  disadvantages, 
which  may  not  exist  elsewhere — ^yea,  even  petty  inconveni- 
ences become  attractive,  when  connected  with  the  associa- 
tions of  youth.     I  find  much  in  otuer  lands  to  make  lift 


494  AT  HOMS  AND  ABROAD. 

brighter  and  richer  than  it  is  here,  at  present,  }  et  no  teuip 
tation  could  induce  me  to  give  up  my  birthright  and  adopt 
a  foreign  home. 

If  the  best  government  is  that  which  governs  least,  then 
ours  is  certainly  the  best  in  the  world.  However  dishonest 
our  professed  politicians  may  be,  however  grievous  the  errors 
which  have  crept  into  our  administration  of  the  laws,  we 
nevertheless  enjoy,  as  individual  citizens,  a  degree  of  inde- 
pendence which  makes  all  other  systems  unendurable  to  ua. 
We  do  not  feel  the  hard  hand  of  Government  pressing  upon 
our  heads,  controlling  our  movements,  repressing  our  free 
development.  We  buy  and  sell,  build  and  pull  down,  learn 
trades,  study  professions,  engage  in  business,  without  the 
permission  or  license  of  any  one.  Our  local  and  municipal 
governments,  it  is  true,  are  less  carefully  administered 
than  in  some  parts  of  Europe;  we  do  many  things  in  a 
bungling  manner ;  but  all  these  minor  evils  cannot  outweigh 
the  one  great  fact  of  individual  freedom.  The  law  interferes 
as  little  as  possible  with  our  pursuits,  our  business  transac- 
tions, and  our  habits  of  life.  We  may  live  for  years,  with- 
out being  aware,  through  our  own  personal  experience 
that  there  is  any  Government  at  aU. 

With  regard  to  Society,  however,  we  are  still  in  a  transi- 
tion state.  Except  in  the  four  large  cities  of  the  Atlantic 
Coast,  we  find  local  conventionalities,  but  not  that  ease  and 
repose  which  spring  from  the  adoption  of  a  few  broad  and 
general  observances.  There  is  no  liberal  recognition  of  a 
man's  social  valtte,  without  regard  to  his  religious  or  politi- 
cal opinions.  The  main  cause  of  this  is,  sufficient  attention 
Is  not  paid  to  the  social  amenities  of  life     In  all  ooimti^ 


PBEFERKNCES,   AFTEB  SKEmG  THB  "WOBLD.  495 

communities,  work  is  the  prescribed  regimen,  and  a  man 
who  chooses  to  live  without  it  exposes  himself  to  censure 
and  impertinent  gossip.  In  the  city  of  Cincinnati,  with 
180,000  inhabitants,  there  is  but  one  man  of  leisure.  (So  J 
was  informed  by  the  individual  himself^  who  had  vainly 
sought  a  companion.)  j 

Too  oftui  the  prominent  religious  sect  in  a  town  de- 
termines the  character  of  its  society.  Between  those 
of  widely  diverging  creeds  ther^  is  rarely  any  familiar 
intercourse.  I  can  conceive  of  nothing  more  unnatural 
and  unchristian  than  what  is  called  "  close  communion," 
which  is  still  a  characteristic  of  two  or  three  Protestant 
sects,  especially  in  the  United  States.  The  true  basis  of 
Society  (by  which  I  mean  Social  Intercourse)  is  Charactei 
and  Cultivation,  not  a  certain  class  of  opinions.  Hence, 
the  introduction  of  a  religious  test,  which  prevails  to  a 
greater  extent  in  the  United  States  than  in  any  other 
country  in  the  world,  defeats  its  object  and  narrows  its 
character. 

There  is  another  feature  of  small  communities,  which 
spiings  fi'om  the  nature  of  our  political  system.  Demo- 
cracy, which  we  have  thoroughly  incorporated  into  our 
Government,  has  two  opposite  modes  of  operation  in  our 
Society.  It  levels  down  as  well  as  up.  The  practical 
effect  is,  not  that  the  uncultivated  many  shall  imitate  the 
cultivated  few,  but  that  the  latter  shall  be  dragged  down 
to  the  lower  platform  on  which  the  former  stand.  This, 
however,  is  an  evil  which  will  remedy  itself  in  the  course 
of  time.  The  progress  in  the  right  direction,  which  ha« 
been  made    within   the    last  twenty  years,  is  amazing 


490  AT  HOUB  AND  ABROAD. 

Nevertheless,  one  who  is  thoroughly  familiar  with  So 
ciety  in  the  two  hemispheres  cannot  but  admit  that  a 
Europe  it  stands  on  a  broader,  firmer,  and  altogether  more 
liberal  and  catholic  basis  than  in  this  country. 

In  one  respect  we  might  profitably  imitate  the  Germans 
Our  sorest  need,  as  a  people,  is  recreation — relaxation  of 
the  everlasting  tension  of  our  laborious  lives.  Among  our 
Teutonic  cousins,  a  certain  amount  of  recreation,  public  as 
well  as  domestic,  is  a  part  of  the  plan  of  every  man's  life. 
The  poorest  laborer  has  his  share — must  have  it — and  the 
treadmill  round  of  his  years  is  brightened  and  sweetened 
by  it.  Our  seasons  of  recreation,  being  so  rare,  too 
frequently  take  the  character  of  excess.  They  are  cha- 
racterized by  the  same  hurry  and  fury  with  which  we 
prosecute  our  business.  If  we  shall  ever  intercalate  regu- 
lar periods  of  genial  relaxation  into  our  working  calendar, 
we  shall  be  a  healthier  and  happier  people  than  we  are 
now. 

For  comfort  in  domestic  life  we  must  look  to  England 
for  an  example.  True,  we  have  inherited  much  from  our 
Anglo-Saxon  ancestry,  but  in  later  times  there  has  been 
engrafted  thereon  a  French  love  of  show,  as  well  as  a 
barbaric  fondness  for  glaring  colors,  which  I  cannot  but 
consider  as  a  retrograde  movement.  "  Look  at  the  Hotel 
of  St.  Dives!"  cries  an  enthusiastic  patriot;  "nowhere 
will  you  find  such  immense  mirrors,  such  carpets,  such 
curtains,  and  such  magnificent  furniture  I  "  Perhaps  so : 
but  when  I  enter  the  hotel,  and  (after  my  eyes  have  reco- 
vered from  the  dazzle  of  the  gilding)  look  upon  the  curtains 
Df  orange  damask,  the  carpet  of  orimsin  and  white,  sprin< 


FBEFEKENCBS,   AFTSB  SEEING  THB  WOBLD.  49T 

kled  with  monstrous  flowers  of  blue,  purple,  and  yellow 
and  the  chairs  of  rosewood  and  scarlet  silk,  I  remember,  in 
grateful  contrast,  the  home-like  parlor  in  the  London 
hotel,  with  its  quiet  green  carpet,  its  easy  chairs  of  green 
leather,  its  scrupulous  neatness,  and  its  air  of  comfort, 
taste,  and  repose.  So  it  is  in  our  private  residences — stiff 
splendor  is  preferred  to  comfort,  everywhere.  Clean  bed 
linen,  an  unlimited  supply  of  water  and  towels,  and  a  neat 
table,  though  there  is  nothing  but  bacon  and  potatoes 
apon  it,  are  the  characteristics  of  the  country  inns  of 
England.    Are  they  of  ours  ? 

In  regard  to  climate,  we  are  met  by  this  difficulty,  that 
that  which  is  most  enjoyable  is  not  best  adapted  to  the 
development  of  the  human  race.  Here,  also,  much  de- 
pends upon  the  peculiar  temperament  of  the  individual 
To  me  our  American  climate,  even  with  its  caprices  and 
extremes,  is  more  agreeable  than  that  of  Europe,  north  of 
the  Alps.  Our  atmosphere  has  a  dry,  fresh,  brilliant,  vital 
character,  which  is  there  wanting.  Nevertheless,  our 
winters  are  too  severe,  and  our  springs  too  uncertain,  so 
that,  although  the  growths  of  our  sununer  are  those  of 
Italy  and  Spain,  we  live  practically,  for  five  months,  in  the 
latitude  of  Copenhagen.  A  hundred  miles  inland  from  tht 
Atlantic  seaboard,  the  average  duration  of  life  is  probably 
as  great  as  in  any  country  of  the  world,  and  the  race,  in 
spite  of  certain  ethnologists,  does  not  deteriorate  from 
phyncal  causes. 

The  most  agreeable  zone  of  climate  is  that  where  the 
olive,  fig,  and  orange  will  grow  in  the  open  air.  Here  the 
■prings  are  delicious,  the  sunimeis  long  and  with  leaf 


498  AT  HOMK  AND  ABROAD. 

extremes  of  heat  than  ours,  the  antnmns  mild  and  babny, 
and  the  winters  barely  cold  enough  to  brace  and  stimulate 
the  system.  To  this  zone  belong  Spain,  Italy,  Greece, 
Palestine,  California,  and  Texas.  I  have  visited  all  except 
the  latter,  and  unhesitatingly  give  the  preference  to  Cali- 
fornia. If  a  more  equable,  genial,  and  healthy  climate 
exists,  I  know  not  where  it  is  to  be  found.  Here  the  air, 
even  in  summer,  has  a  dryness  and  purity  which  take  away 
all  tropical  languor  from  its  truly  tropical  heats  ;  the 
winters  are  green  and  mild,  and  the  springs  a  foretaste 
of  Paradise.  The  interior  of  Texas  is  said  to  be  similarly 
&vored  with  regard  to  climate. 

Nothing  can  be  more  delicious  than  some  portions  of  the 
Tropics,  where  there  is  no  day  of  a  man's  life  when  he  may 
not  sit  in  the  open  air — ^no  day  without  the  falling  of  ripe 
fruit  and  the  opening  of  new  blossoms.  There  the  climate 
is  an  opiate,  and  life  an  indolent,  sensuous  semindeep.  Bui 
how  delicious  such  repose  I 

"Oh  sweet  it  was,  in  Ayes,  to  feel  the  landward  breeze^ 
A-swing  with  good  tobacco,  in  a  net  between  the  trees, 
With  a  negro  lass  to  fan  you,  while  you  listened  to  the  roai 
Of  the  breakers  on  the  reef  outside,  that  never  touched  the  shore  I" 

One,  therefore,  who  wishes  to  taste  the  very  cream  of  tld 
terrestrial  existence,  must  do  his  work  in  America,  enjoy 
his  recreation  in  Europe,  and  go  to  Java  for  his  days  of 
indolence. 

The  zone  of  action  and  achievement  lies  between  lat.  85* 
And  55°  North.  On  either  side  of  this  belt  we  have  a 
taperabundance  of  the  benumbing  or  relaxing  element 


PBEFEEENCES,    AFTER   SEEING   THB   WORLD.  499 

Our  country,  stretching  from  25°  to  49°,  enjoys  a  most  for 
tunate  range  of  climate.  Extension  southwards  would  be 
followed  bv  a  slow  but  certain  deterioration  in  the  stamina 
of  the  race — unless,  perhaps,  upon  the  high  table-lands  oi 
Mexico,  where  the  annual  mean  of  temperature  is  not  much 
greater  than  in  Texas  or  Tennessee.  We  have,  therefore 
every  reason  to  be  satisfied  with  our  lot  in  this  particular 
At  least  he  who  desires  a  change,  may  find  whatever  climate 
he  prefers,  without  going  beyond  the  limits  of  the  United 
States. 

Every  country  has  its  peculiar  habits  of  life,  and  it  is  al- 
ways most  convenient  to  conform  to  them.  Whether  this 
or  that  is  best,  is  a  thing  for  each  man  to  decide  according 
to  his  circumstances,  and  his  bodily  temperament.  The  Eng- 
lish dine  at  the  close  of  the  day,  after  the  day's  work  is 
done,  sit  long  at  table,  and  do  nothing  to  interfere  with  the 
subsequent  process  of  digestion.  The  Germans  dine  at  one 
o'clock,  and  make  supper  (which  is  always  very  substantial) 
a  deliberate  and  social  meal.  The  Americans  eat  all  meals 
&st,  and  work  both  before  and  afterwards.  Naturally,  we 
have  four  dyspeptics  where  there  is  one  in  Europe. 

Altogether,  the  most  rational  and  convenient  habit  of 
life  for  a  man  who  does  just  as  much  work  as  he  ought  tc 
do,  and  no  more,  is  that  which  prevails  in  Spain,  Mexico, 
and  parts  of  France.  Immediately  on  awakening  in  the 
morning,  you  are  furnished  with  a  cup  of  coffee  or  chocolate 
a  biscuit,  and  a  glass  of  water.  You  are  then  ready  foi 
your  labors ;  your  stomach  is  warmed,  your  head  clear,  and 
your  brain  nimble  After  three  or  four  hours — ^from  ten  to 
eleven  o'clock,  generally — you  have  breakfast,  consisting  o/ 


500  .,  .  >  AT   HOMB  AND   ABBOAl>. 

Bubstantial  dishes  of  meat  and  vegetables,  with  light  wini 
and  water,  and  a  cup  of  coffee  at  the  close.  Five  to  sis 
hours  more  available  time  are  now  before  you,  during  whicL 
70U  accomplish  your  allotted  day's  work.  At  5  p.  m.  din- 
oei  is  served — a  generous  meal,  followed  by  coflEee.  The 
evening  is  devoted  to  society  or  recreation  of  some  kind. 
At  nine  o'clock  you  take  a  cup  of  tea,  or  an  ice,  but  nothing 
more,  and  your  sleep  is  untroubled  by  nightmares.  I  have 
never  found  myself  in  better  health  or  more  admirable 
working  trim,  than  when  following  this  programme  of 
daily  life. 

However,  each  man  is  but  a  unit  in  Society,  and  must 
sacrifice  many  of  his  individual  tastes  and  likings  for  those 
around  him.  One  might  as  well  cry  for  the  moon,  like  an 
infant,  as  attempt  to  transplant  all  the  pleasant  features 
of  life  in  other  climates  and  among  other  races  into  a  soil 
foreign  to  them.  I  am  well  satisfied  with  the  land  where 
my  lot  is  cast,  without  feeling  myself  bound  to  say  that 
nothing  is  better  elsewhere.  As  I  look  up  from  this  page, 
and  see,  through  the  open  window,  my  own  trees  tossing 
the  silver  lining  of  their  leaves  to  the  summer  wind,  and 
the  peaceful  beauty  of  the  vales  and  blue  hills  stretching 
beyond,  I  know  that  no  tropic  island,  no  palace  on  a  Medi- 
terranean shore,  no  advantage  of  wealth  and  position  in  the 
great  capitals  of  Europe,  could  ever  tempt  me  to  give  up 
the  name,  the  rights,  and  the  immunities  of  an  American 
Citizen. 

THE   END. 


AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD 

A  SKETCH-BOOK  OF 

LIFE,  SCENERY   AND   MEN 


BAYARD   TAYLOR 


SECOND   SERIES 


AUTHOR  S  REVISED  EDITION 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1862,  by 
G.   P.    PUTNAM, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
^     Southern  District  of  New  York. 

Copyright,  1891,  by 
Marie  Taylor. 


CONTENTS. 


I.— A  COUNTRY  HOME  IN  AMERICA. 

PA«W 

1. — HOW  I  OAMB  TO  BUT  A  FARM, ■       1 

2.— "  FREB  SOIL,"      . 10 

3, THE  BUILDING  OF   A  HOUSB,        ......  19 

i. — RESULTS  AND  SUGGESTIONS, 28 


IL— NEW  PICTURES  FROM  CALIFORNIA. 

1. SAN  FRANCISCO,  AFTER  TEN  YEARS,              ....  37 

2. — THE  VALLEY  OF  SAN  JOS^ 50 

3. A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  GEYSERS, 65 

4. A  STRUGGLE  TO  KEEP  AN   APPOXNTMIMT,   ....  86 

6. THE  SACRAMENTO  VALLEY, lOO 

6. — THE  NORTHERN  MINES, 125 

7. TRAVELLING  IN  THE  SIERRA  NBYAOA,          ....  144 

8. — THE  SOUTHERN  MINES,     .......  159 

9. THE  BIG  TREES  OF  CALAVERAS, 176 

10.— CALIFORNIA,   AS  A  HOMK,           ......  191 

m.— A  HOME  IN  THE  THtfRIN&IAN  FOREST, 

1. — TAKING  POSSESSION, 203 

2. HOW  WE  SPENT  THE  FOURTH, 210 

3. REINHARDTSBRUNN,  AND  ITS  LEGEND,         ....  218 

4. THE  FIRST  GERMAN  SHOOTING-MATCH,         ....  226 


CONTKNT8, 


5. — THE  SAME,  OONTINUCO,    . 
6. — ^ERNEST  OP  OOBUKO, 
7. — BT0BK8  AOT)  AUTHORS,    . 
8. — "  THE  VISION  OF  SUDDEN  DEATH," 
9. — THE  FOREST  AND  ITS  LEGENDS, 
10, — DAY-DREAMS — DEPARTtTBE,      . 


236 
243 
263 
261 
270 
27» 


IV.— A    WALK    THROUGH     THE     FRANOONIAN 

SWITZERLAND. 286 

v.— TRAVELS  AT  HOME. 

1. — THE  HUDSON  AND  THE  0AT8KILL8, 319 

2. — BERKSHIRE  AND  BOSTON, 330 

3. — THE  SAOO  VALLEY, 341 

4. THE  ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  WASHINaTOK,             ....  355 

5. MONTREAL  AND  QUEBEC, 366 

6. UP  THE  SAGUENAY, 374 

7. — NIAGARA,  AND  ITS  VISITORS, 388 

8. — TRENTON  FALLS  AND  SARATOGA,           .....  396 

VL— PERSONAL  SKETOHEa 

1, — THE  LESLIES, 404 

2. — THE  BROWNINGS, 410 

3. — THE  WRITERS  TOR  "  PDKOH," 416 

i. — LEIGH  HXTNT, ^1 

5. — HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDIBSDf, 426 


VIL— THE  CONFESSIONS  OP  A  MBDIUll. 


433 


VIXL—THE  HAUNTED  SHANTY. 


m 


AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

8E00ND  BSBIIS 


L 

A  COUNTRY  HOME  IN  AMERICA. 


1. — How  I  Camb  to  But  a  Fabm. 

In  the  first  place,  it  runs  in  the  blood.  If  there  is  any 
law  I  believe  in,  it  is  that  of  the  hereditary  transmission  of 
traits,  qualities,  capacities,  and  passions.  My  father  is  a 
former ;  my  grandfather  was^  and  his  father  before  him,  and 
his,  and  his  again,  to  the  seventh  ancestor,  who  came  over  in 
one  of  "William  Penn's  vessels,  and  immediately  set  about 
reducing  the  superfluous  sylvanism  of  that  Apostle's  Sylva- 
nia.  If  I  could  brush  away  the  clouds  which  hang  about 
this  portion  of  the  genealogical  tree,  I  have  no  doubt  but 
that  I  should  find  its  trunk  striking  through  cottages  or 
country  halls  for  some  centuries  further  ;  and  that  "  Roger, 
iob.  1614,)  the  son  of  Thomas,  the  son  of  Roger,"  who 
wore  the  judicial  ermine  upon  his  escutcheon,  had  hia 
favorite  country-house  in  the  neighborhood  of  London. 

1 


S  AT  HOMB  AXD  ABBOU> 

The  child  that  has  tumbled  into  a  newly-ploughed  furrow 
never  forgets  the  smell  of  the  fresh  earth.  He  thrives  upon 
it  as  the  butcher's  boy  thrives  upon  the  steam  of  blood, 
but  a  healthier  apple-red  comes  into  his  cheeks,  and  hia 
growing  muscle  is  subdued  in  more  innocent  pastimes. 
Almost  my  first  recollection  is  that  of  a  swamp,  into  which 
I  went  bare-legged  at  morning,  and  out  of  which  I  came, 
when  driven  by  hunger,  with  long  stockings  of  black  mud, 
and  a  mask  of  the  same.  If  the  child  was  missed  from  the 
house,  the  first  thing  that  suggested  itself,  was  to  climb 
upon  a  mound  which  overlooked  the  swamp.  Somewhere, 
among  the  tufts  of  the  rushes  and  the  bladed  leaves  of  the 
calamus,  a  little  brown  ball  was  sure  to  be  seen  moving, 
now  dipping  out  of  sight,  now  rising  again,  like  a  bit  of 
drift  on  the  rippling  green.  It  was  my  head.  The  trea- 
sures I  there  collected  were  black  terrapins,  with  orange 
spots,  baby  frogs  the  size  of  a  chestnut,  thrush's  eggs,  and 
stems  of  purple  phlox. 

I  cannot  say  that  my  boyish  experience  of  farmwork  was 
altogether  attractive.  I  had  a  constitutional  horror  of 
dirty  hands,  and  my  first  employments — picking  stones  and 
weeding  corn — were  rather  a  torture  tb  this  superfine  taste. 
But  almost  every  field  had  its  walnut  tree,  and  many  of  the 
last  year's  nuts  retained  their  flavor  in  the  spring  ;  melons 
were  planted  among  the  corn,  and  the  meadow  which  lay 
between  never  exhausted  its  store  of  wonders.  Besides, 
there  were  eggs  to  hide  at  Easter ;  cherries  and  strawberries 
in  May ;  fruits  all  summer,  fishing-parties  by  torch-light ; 
lobelia  and  sumac  to  be  gathered,  dried,  and  sold  for 
pocket-money;  and  in  the  fall  chestnuts,  persimmons,  wild 


A    COtJNTRY    HOME   IN    AJfREICA.  8 

grapes,  cider,  and  the  grand  butchering  after  fiost  cauie— 
BO  that  all  the  pleasures  I  knew  were  those  incidental  to  a 
farmer's  life.  The  books  I  read  came  from  the  village 
library,  and  the  task  of  helping  to  "  fodder''  on  the  dark 
winter  evenings  was  lightened  by  the  anticipation  of  sitting 
down  to  Gibbon's  Rome,  or  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,  after- 
wards. To  be  sure,  I  sometimes  envied  the  store-keeper'a 
boy,  whom  I  had  once  seen  shovelling  sugar  out  of  a  hogs- 
head, and  who  now  and  then  stealthily  dipped  his  hand 
into  the  raisin-box ;  but  it  is  not  in  the  nature  of  any  child 
to  be  perfectly  satisfied  with  his  lot. 

A  life  of  three  years  in  a  small  country  town  eflfectually 
cured  me  of  all  such  folly.  When  I  returned  to  the  home- 
stead as  a  youth,  I  first  felt  the  delight  and  the  refreshment 
of  labor  in  the  open  air.  I  was  then  able  to  take  the  plough- 
handle,  and  I  still  remember  the  pride  I  felt  when  my 
furrows  were  pronounced  even  and  well  turned.  Although 
it  was  already  decided  that  I  should  not  make  farming  the 
business  of  my  life,  I  thrust  into  my  plans  a  slender  wedge 
of  hope  that  I  might  one  day  own  a  bit  of  ground,  for  the 
hixury  of  having,  if  not  the  profit  of  cultivating  it.  The 
iroma  of  the  sweet  soil  had  tinctured  my  blood ;  the  black 
mud  of  the  swamp  still  stuck  to  my  feet. 

It  happened  that,  adjoining  my  father's  property,  tbere 
was  an  old  farm,  which  was  fast  relapsing  into  a  state  of 
nature.  Thirty  or  forty  years  had  passed  since  the  plough 
had  touched  any  part  of  it.  The  owner,  who  lived  upon 
another  estate  at  a  little  distance,  had  always  declined  to 
3ell — perhaps  for  the  reason  that  no  purchaser  could  be 
found  to  offer  an  encouraging  price.     Left  thus  to  herself 


4  AT    HOME    AND   ABEOAD. 

Nature  played  all  sorts  of  wild  and  picturesque  pranks  Mrith 
the  property.  Two  heaps  of  stones  were  all  that  marked 
the  site  of  the  house  and  bam  ;  half  a  dozen  ragged  plum 
and  peach  trees  hovered  around  the  outskirts  of  th 
vanished  garden,  the  melancholy  survivors  of  all  its  bloon 
nd  fruitage ;  and  a  mixture  of  tall  sedge-grass,  sumacs, 
and  blackberry  bushes  covered  the  fields.  The  hawthorn 
hedges  which  lined  the  lane  had  disappeared,  but  some 
clumps  of  privet  still  held  their  ground,  and  the  wild  grape 
and  scarlet-berried  celastrus  clambered  all  over  the  tall 
sassafras  and  tulip-trees. 

Along  the  road  which  bounded  this  farm  on  the  east 
stood  a  grove  of  magnificent  oaks,  more  than  a  hundred 
feet  in  height.  Standing  too  closely  to  permit  of  lateral 
boughs  near  the  earth,  their  trunks  rose  like  a  crowded 
colonnade  clear  against  the  sky,  and  the  sunset,  burning 
through,  took  more  gorgeous  hues  of  orange  and  angry 
crimson.  Knowing  that  if  the  farm  were  sold,  those  glo- 
rious trees  would  probably  be  the  first  to  fall,  and  that  the 
sunset  would  thereby  for  me  lose  half  its  splendor,  I  gra- 
dually came  to  contemplate  them  with  the  interest  which 
an  uncertain,  suspended  fate  inspires.  At  the  foot  of  the 
oaks,  on  the  border  of  the  field,  there  was  an  old,  gnai'led 
mother-pine,  surrounded  by  her  brood  of  young  ones,  who, 
always  springing  up  in  the  same  direction,  from  the  fact 
that  the  seeds  were  scattered  by  the  nor' west  winds, 
seemed  to  be  running  off  down  the  slope,  as  if  full-fledged 
and  eager  to  make  their  way  into  the  world.  The  old 
pine  had  an  awful  interest  to  me  as  a  boy.  More  than 
once  huge  black  snakes  had  been  seen  hanging  from  it? 


▲   OOTINTBY   HOMB  IN  AMEBICA.  A 

iDoaghs,  and  the  farm-hands  would  tell  mysterious  storiea 
of  an  old  mother-serpent,  as  long  as  a  fence-rail  and  as 
BMdft  as  a  horse.  In  fact,  my  brother  and  I,  on  our  way  to 
the  peach-trees,  which  still  produced  some  bitter-flavored 
fruit,  had  more  than  once  seen  snakes  in  our  path.  On  s 
certain  occasion,  as  my  memory  runs,  I  chased  the  snake, 
while  he  ran  away.  His  story  is,  that  he  chased  and  I  ran 
— and  the  question  remains  unsettled  to  this  day. 

In  another  wood  of  chestnuts,  beyond  the  field,  the  finest 
yellow  violets  were  to  be  found ;  the  azaleas  blossomed  in 
their  season,  and  the  ivory  Indian-pipe  sprang  up  under  the 
beech-trees.  Sometimes  we  extended  our  rambles  to  the 
end  of  the  farm,  and  looked  down  into  the  secluded  dells 
beyond  the  ridge  which  it  covered:  such  glimpses  were 
like  the  discovery  of  unknown  lands.  How  far  off  the 
other  people  lived  !  How  strange  it  must  be  to  dwell  con- 
tinually down  in  that  hollow,  with  no  other  house  in  sight! 
But  when  I  build  a  house,  I  thought,  I  shall  build  it  up  on 
the  ridge,  with  a  high  steeple,  from  the  top  of  which  I  can 
see  far  and  wide.  That  deserted  farm  was  to  me  like  the 
Ejuxria  of  Hartley  Coleridge,  but  my  day-dreams  were  far 
less  ambitious  than  his.  If  I  had  known  then  what  I 
learned  long  afterwards,  that  a  tradition  of  buried  treasure 
Btill  lingers  about  the  old  garden,  I  should  no  doubt  have 
dug  up  millions  in  my  imagination,  roofed  my  house  with 
gold,  and  made  the  steeple  thereof  five  hundred  feet  high. 

At  last  came  the  launch  into  the  world — a  slide,  a  plunge, 
a  shudder,  and  the  ship  rides  the  waves.  Absence,  occu- 
pation, travel,  substituted  realities  for  dreams,  and  the 
&rm,  if  not  forgotten,  became  a  very  subordinate  object  in 


6  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

the  catalogue  of  things  to  be  attained.  Whenever  I  visited 
the  homestead,  however,  I  saw  the  sunset  through  its 
grating  of  forest,  and  remembered  the  fate  that  still  hung 
suspended  over  the  trees.  Fifty  years  of  neglect  had  given 
the  place  a  bad  name  among  the  farmers,  while  Nature,  as 
if  delighted  to  recover  possession,  had  gone  on  adorning  it 
in  her  own  wild  and  matchless  way.  I  looked  on  the  spot 
v^ith  an  instructed  eye,  and  sighed,  as  I  counted  up  my 
scanty  earnings,  at  the  reflection  that  years  must  elapse 
before  I  could  venture  to  think  of  possessing  it.  My  wish, 
nevertheless,  was  heard  and  remembered. 

In  July,  1853, 1  was  on  the  island  of  Loo-Choo.  Return- 
ing to  the  flag-ship  of  the  squadron  one  evening,  after  a 
long  tramp  over  the  hills  to  the  south  of  Napa-Kiang,  in  a 
successful  search  for  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  fortress  of 
Tima-gusku,  I  was  summoned  by  the  officer  of  the  deck  to 
receive  a  package  which  had  been  sent  on  board  from  one 
of  the  other  vessels.  Letters  from  home,  after  an  interval 
of  six  months  without  news!  I  immediately  asked  per- 
mission to  burn  a  lamp  on  the  orlop-deck,  and  read  until 
midnight,  forgetting  the  tramp  of  the  sentry  and  the  sounds 
of  the  sleepers  in  their  hanunocks  around  me.  Opening 
letter  after  letter,  and  devouring,  piece  by  piece,  the  ban- 
quet of  news  they  contained,  the  most  startling,  as  well  as 
the  most  important  communication,  was — the  old  farm  was 
mine  !  Its  former  owner  had  died,  the  property  was  sold, 
and  had  been  purchased  in  my  name.  I  went  on  deck. 
The  midwatch  had  just  relieved  the  first:  the  night  was 
pitch  dark,  only  now  and  then  a  wave  burst  in  a  flash  of 
white  pliosphoric  fire.     But,  as  I  looked  westward  over  the 


A   COUNTEY    HOMK  IN    AMERICA.  7 

stern-rail,  I  saw  the  giant  oaks,  rising  black  against  the 
crimson  sunset,  and  knew  that  they  were  waiting  for  me— 
that  I  should  surely  see  them  again. 

Five  months  afterwards  I  approached  home,  after  ar 
absence  of  nearly  two  years  and  a  half.  It  was  Christman 
Eve — a  clear,  sharp  winter  night.  The  bare  earth  was  hard 
frozen  ;  the  sun  was  down,  a  quarter-moon  shone  overhead, 
and  the  keen  nor'west  wind  blew  in  my  face.  I  had 
known  no  winter  for  three  years,  and  the  bracing  stimulus 
of  the  cold  was  almost  as  novel  as  it  was  refreshing.  Pre- 
sently I  recognized  the  boundaries  of  my  property — yes,  I 
actually  possessed  a  portion  of  the  earth's  surface !  After 
all,  I  thought,  possession — at  least  so  far  as  Nature  is  con- 
cerned— means  ^xxsi^j  protection.  This  moonlit  wilderness 
is  not  more  beautiful  to  my  eyes  than  it  was  before  ;  but  I 
have  the  right,  secured  by  legal  documents,  to  preserve  its 
beauty.  I  need  not  implore  the  woodman  to  spare  those 
trees :  I'll  spare  them  myself.  This  is  the  only  difference 
in  my  relation  to  the  property.  So  long  as  any  portion  of 
the  landscape  which  pleases  me  is  not  disturbed,  I  possess 
it  quite  as  much  as  this. 

Duriug  these  reflections,  I  had  reached  the  foot  of  the 
ridge.  A  giant  tulip-tree,  the  honey  of  whose  blossoms  I 
had  many  a  time  pilfered  in  boyhood,  crowned  the  slope, 
drooping  its  long  boughs  as  if  weary  of  stretching  them  in 
welcome.  Behind  it  stood  the  oaks,  side  by  side,  far  along 
the  road.  As  I  reached  the  first  tree  the  wind,  which 
had  fallen,  gradually  swelled,  humming  through  the  bare 
branches  until  a  deep  organ-bass  filled  the  wood.  It  was 
a  hoarse,  yet  grateful  chorus  of  welcome — inarticulate,  yet 


8  AT   HOMB   AKD   ABROAD. 

intelligible  "  Welcome,  welcome  home  '**  went  booming 
through  the  trees,  "  welcome,  our  master  and  our  pre- 
server !  See,  with  all  the  voice  we  can  catch  from  the 
winds,  we  utter  our  joy !  For  now  there  is  an  end  to  fear 
and  suspense :  he  who  knows  us  and  loves  us  spreads  ovei 
us  the  shelter  of  his  care.  Long  shall  we  flourish  on  the 
hill :  long  shall  our  leaves  expand  in  the  upper  air :  long 
shall  our  grateful  shadows  cover  his  path.  We  shall  hail 
his  coming  from  afar:  our  topmost  boughs  will  spy  him 
across  the  valleys,  and  whisper  it  to  the  fraternal  woods. 
We  are  old ;  we  never  change ;  we  shall  never  cease  to 
remember  and  to  welcome  our  master  1" 

So  the  trees  were  first  to  recognize  me.  Listening  to 
their  deep,  resonant  voices,  (which  I  would  not  have 
exchanged  for  the  dry  rattle  of  a  hundred-league-long 
forest  of  tropical  palms,)  I  was  conscious  of  a  new  sensation, 
which  nothing  but  the  actual  sight  of  my  own  property 
could  have  suggested.  I  felt  like  a  tired  swimmer  when  he 
first  touches  ground — ^like  a  rudderless  ship,  drifting  at  the 
will  of  the  storm,  when  her  best  bower  takes  firm  hold — 
like  a  winged  seed,  when,  after  floating  from  bush  to  bush, 
and  from  field  to  field,  it  drops  at  last  upon  a  handftil  of 
mellow  soil,  and  strikes  root.  My  life  had  now  a  point 
dPappuif  and,  standing  upon  these  acres  of  real  estate,  it 
seemed  an  easier  thing  to  move  the  world.  A  million  in 
bank  stock  or  railroad  bonds  could  not  have  given  me  the 
same  positive,  tangible  sense  of  property. 

When  I  walked  over  my  fields  (yes — actually  my  fields!) 
the  next  day,  this  sensation  returned  in  an  almost  lidiculoui 
excess.     "  You  will  of  course  cut  dc  wn  that  ugly  old  tree,' 


A   COUNTRY   HOME   IN   AMERICA.  9 

■aid  some  one.  It  impressed  me  very  much  as  if  I  had  been 
told :  "  That  chapter  in  your  bouk  is  inferior  to  the  others 
— ^tear  it  out !"  or,  ,*'  Your  little  finger  is  crooked  •  have  it 
amputated  !"  Why,  even  the  sedge-grass  and  sumacs — ho^ 
beautiful  they  were !  Could  1  ever  make  up  my  mind  to 
destroy  them  ?  As  for  the  cedars,  the  hawthorn,  the  piivet, 
the  tangled  masses  of  climbing  smilax — no,  by  the  bones  of 
Belshazzar,  they  shall  stand  !  "This  field  will  not  be  worth 
much  for  grain."  Well — what  if  it  isn't  ?  "  Everything  is 
wild  and  neglected — it  wants  clearing,  sadly."  Everything 
is  grand,  beautiful,  charming :  there  is  nothing  like  it  I  So 
ran  the  course  of  remark  and  counter-remark.  I  did  not 
sufier  my  equanimity  to  be  disturbed ;  was  I  not  sole 
owner,  appellator,  and  disposer  of  all?  Nor  did  the  trees 
appear  to  be  sensible  of  the  least  fear.  They  leaned  their 
heads  against  one  another  in  a  sort  of  happy,  complacent 
calm,  as  if  whispering :  "  It's  all  right :  let  us  enjoy  the  sun- 
shine ;  he'll  take  care  of  us !" 

Yes,  one  cannot  properly  be  considered  as  a  member  of 
the  Brotherhood  of  Man,  an  inhabitant  of  the  Earth,  until 
he  possesses  a  portion  of  her  surface.  As  the  sailors  say,  he 
stays^  he  don't  actually  live.  The  Agrarians,  Communists, 
Socialistic  Levellers,  and  Flats  of  all  kinds,  are  replenished 
from  the  ranks  of  the  non-owners  of  real  estate.  Banks 
break ;  stocks  and  scrips  of  "all  kinds  go  up  and  down  on 
the  financial  see-saw ;  but  a  fee-simple  of  solid  earth  is 
t^^  There  !  You  see  it,  you  feel  it,  you  walk  over  it.  It  ii: 
yonrs,  and  your  children's,  and  their  progeny's  (unless  mortr 
gaged  and  sold  through  foreclosure)  until  the  Millennium. 

And  this  is  how  I  came  to  buy  a  Farm. 


10  Al    HOM£  AND    ABBOAD. 

2. — "Fbee  Soil.»» 

*'  For  and  in  consideration  of  the  sum  of dollars, 

good  and  lawful  money  of  the  state  of ,  I,  the  aforesaid 

A.  B.,  do  hereby  convey  and  transfer  to  the  aforesaid  C.  D., 
etc..  etc.,  his  heirs,  executors,  or  assignees,  all  my  right, 
title,  and  interest  in  the  aforesaid  messuage  and  tract  of 
land,"  etc.,  etc.  The  signatures,  duly  witnessed,  the  decla 
ration  of  the  wife,  alone  in  the  presence  of  the  magistrate, 
that  she  had  signed  the  deed  of  her  own  free  will,  without 
compulsion  on  the  part  of  her  husband,  even  the  note  of 

registry  in  the  Registrar's  office  of county,  were  all 

there.  The  stiff  phrases  and  redundant  tautology  of  the 
law,  once  so  absurd,  now  seemed  highly  exact  and  appro- 
priate. Ought  not  the  casket  which  holds  my  property  to 
be  so  thoroughly  wrapped  and  cemented,  that  not  a  rat 
shall  find  a  hole  to  creep  through  ?  Certes,  fifty  folios  were 
not  too  much  to  secure  my  right  of  possession !  Let  all  the 
synonyms  in  the  English  language  be  exhausted — so  much 
the  better.  Mrs.  Browning  tells  somebody  to  say  to  her : 
"  '  Love  me,  love  me,  love  me,'  in  silver  iteration,"  and  what 
is  true  of  one  kind  of  love,  is  true  of  all  kinds.  If  the  deed 
had  simply  stated  that  C.  D.  had  "  bought"  the  land  of  A.  B^ 
I  do  not  think  I  should  have  been  satisfied.  But  this  luscious 
lingering  upon  the  circumstance,  ringing  it  over  and  over 
upon  all  words  which  had  a  remote  approach  to  the  mean- 
ng — conveyed,  transferred,  made  over,,  disposed  of,  invested 
with,  deeded  to,  granted,  given,  empowered — what  fulness 
find  riclincss,  what  vitality  and  certainty  it  gave  tc  the  act' 


A   COUNTEY    HOME   IN    4.MJEBICA.  11 

I  repeat  it,  the  only  positive  property  is  real  estate.  Not 
only  in  imagination,  but  also  in  fact.  You  may  hold  in  youi 
hand  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  bank-notes ;  a  sudden 
puff  of  wind  surprises  you,  and  whisk  I  away  they  go.  Or 
you  may  fall  into  the  water,  and  they  are  reduced  to  a 
wortMess  pulp — or  the  house  burns  down,  and  your  notes, 
and  jewels,  and  mortgages,  are  consumed  with  it.  But  who 
ever  heard  of  an  estate  being  blown  away,  or  burned  up,  oi 
cai'ried  off  by  an  absconding  defaulter  ?  Did  any  man  ever 
see  a  counterfeit  farm?  The  market  value  of  land  may 
fluctuate  considerably,'  but,  unless  Nature  is  subjected 
to  violence  and  outrage,  its  intrinsic  value  never  varies. 
It  always  possesses  the  same  capabilities,  if  not  the  same 
qualities. 

There  is  one  feature  at  least — and,  to  me,  not  the  least 
important — wherein  the  bleakest  barren  is  equal  to  the 
most  bountiful  intervale.  Within  its  limits  the  proprietor 
is  sovereign  lord.  He  may  build,  tear  down,  excavate,  fill 
up,  plant,  destroy,  or  do  whatever  else  he  will.  Yea,  he 
may  even  (in  our  own  country)  write,  speak,  proselytize, 
establish  a  new  religious  sect,  adopt  another  form  of  govern- 
ment— provided  he  still  pays  his  taxes — and  in  every  other 
way,  compatible  with  the  rights  of  his  neighbors,  give  free 
play  to  the  eccentricities  of  his  individual  nature. 

I,  at  least,  in  receiving  the  deed,  determined  that  my  land 
should  be  "  Free  Soil."  Free  to  myself,  free  to  my  friends, 
free  to  all  the  world, — with  certain  restrictions  to  be  herein- 
after specified.  Before  proceeding  to  these,  let  me  note 
another  feature  of  human  nature,  which,  as  homo  sum- 
could  not  have  failed  to  present  itself  without  constituting 


18  AT   BOMB   AND  ABROAD. 

me  a  highly  exceptional  person.  I  forget  whether  it  wai 
on  the  first,  second,  or  third  visit  I  made  to  the  old  farm, 
(I  believe  I  went  every  day  for  the  first  week,)  when  my 
satisfaction  received  a  check.  The  ridge  running  through 
the  property  is  the  highest  in  the  neighborhood,  with  the 
exception  of  one  immediately  to  the  north,  which  conve- 
niently protects  it  from  the  cold  winds  of  winter.  My  own 
ridge,  therefore,  commands  an  extensive  view  over  the 
regions  to  the  east,  south,  and  west.  Through  the  inlets 
of  cedar-besprinkled  lawn  between  the  triple  groves,  I 
caught  lovely  glimpses  of  other  valleys,  between  me  and 
the  distant  purple  hills.  A  line  of  post-and-rail  was  drawn 
across  the  middle  ground  of  each  picture — ^it  was  my  line 
fence !    There  my  sovereignty  ceased. 

My  previous  sense  of  possession,  "This  is  mine,"  was 
immediately  displaced  by  the  unreasonable  longing :  "  If  all 
that  were  only  mine!"  Like  the  Frenchman,  who,  sitting 
down  to  a  crust  of  bread  and  a  cup  of  water,  and  being 
unexpectedly  presented  with  a  bottle  of  wine,  growled, 
'■'■Peste!  vin  ordinaire!  you  might  have  given  me  Bur- 
gundy !" — or  the  child  who  gets  an  apple  and  then  cries 
because  he  can't  have  six,  I  now  wanted  to  feel  myself  the 
owner  of  all  the  land  within  the  range  of  vision.  My  pos- 
session was  incomplete — ^it  was  only  part  of  a  landscape. 
Those  forests  which  now  so  beautifully  feather  the  distant 
hills  may  be  destroyed  at  the  will  of  another.  I  have  no 
power  to  preserve  them.  How  fortunate  are  those  large 
landholders  in  England,  who  can  ride  thirty  miles  in  a 
straight  line  through  iheir  own  property!  They  can  mount 
the  highest  hill,  ar  d  all  which  the  romided  sky  incloses, 


▲   COUNTBY   HOAO:  IN  AMEBICA.  18 

belongs  to  them — stream,  forest,  meadow,  moantiiiii,  vil- 
lage, mills,  and  mines ! 

But  presently  an  inner  voice  whispered:  "  Gi«!rat  estatea 
ai'e  a  curse.  They  flatter  the  selfish  pride  of  one  man,  thai 
a  thousand  others  may  be  homeless.  You,  who  rejoice  in 
the  soil  you  have  just  achieved,  finding  therein  a  better 
right  to  residence  on  the  earth,  would  you  crowd  out  others 
from  the  same  privilege  ?  You,  with  your  fields  and  groves, 
would  you  grudge  the  laborer  his  single  acre,  or  yonder 
farmer  his  hill-sides,  made  dearer  to  him  by  the  labors  of 
his  fathers  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ?  Have  you  not  soil 
enough  for  the  exercise  of  your  coveted  freedom  ?  Were 
all  the  land  yours,  to  the  furthest  hill,  you  would  stand 
upon  that,  and  extend  your  wishes  to  the  next  horizon.  He 
has  enough  who  makes  a  wise  use  of  his  property.  Beware ! 
for  there  have  been  those,  who,  not  satisfied  with  ten  thou- 
sand acres,  were  reduced  to  seek  contentment  at  last  in  six 
feet  of  earth !" 

Besides,  I  thought,  this  is  but  the  outside  of  my  farm. 
Possession  is  not  merely  the  superficial  area :  it  extends, 
legally,  to  the  centre  of  the  earth.  I  own,  therefore,  a  nar- 
row strip  of  territory  nearly  four  thousand  miles  in  length! 
Truly  I  cannot  travel  to  the  end  of  my  dominion ;  what  of 
that  ? — I  have  no  desire  to  do  so.  And  above  me,  the  seas 
of  blue  air,  the  dark,  superimposing  space — all  is  mine,  half- 
way to  the  nearest  star,  where  I  join  atmospheres  with  some 
far-off  neighbor !  The  scattered  clouds,  as  they  pass  over, 
the  rain,  the  rainbow,  lightnings  and  meteoric  fires,  become 
my  temporary  chattels.  Under  my  feet,  what  unknown 
riches  may  not  exist ! — beds  of  precious  minerals,  geodei 


14  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

of  jewels,  sparry  caverns,  sections  of  subterranean  seas,  and 
fiimaces  heated  from  the  central  fire  I  This  is  wealth 
which,  indeed,  would  not  be  received  as  collateral  security 
for  a  loan,  but  it  is  therefore  none  the  less  satisfactory  to 
he  imagination. 

Standing,  once,  on  the  lawn  at  Farringford,  I  congra- 
lulated  Alfred  Tennyson  on  the  beauty  of  his  view  across 
jhe  Solent,  to  the  blue,  wavy  outline  of  the  New  Forest. 
"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  but  it  wants  another  feature — ^three 
summits  of  perpetual  snow,  yonder !"  pointing  to  the  north- 
west. To  make  my  landscape  complete,  not  only  those 
three  peaks  are  required,  (also  in  the  northwest,)  but  a 
lake  or  a  river  in  one  of  the  intervening  valleys.  Until  I 
can  procure  them,  I  construct  temporary  Alps  from  the 
masses  of  suii-gilded  cumuli  which  settle  along  the  western 
horizon,  and  flatter  myself  that  I  shall  be  able  to  see  a  dis- 
tant river  from  the  top  of  my  future  house.  The  changes 
of  the  atmosphere — the  shifting  of  some  prevailing  tone  in 
the  colors  of  the  landscape — ^give  me,  virtually,  the  range 
of  many  lands.  My  property  may  lie  in  Norway,  in  Ame- 
rica, or  in  Andalusia :  it  depends  upon  the  sky.  Usually, 
however,  it  represents  the  midland  vales  of  England — undu- 
lating, deep  in  the  richest  foliage,  intersected  with  lanes  of 
hawthorn  and  clematis,  and  dotted  with  old  stone  country- 
houses  and  capacious  barns.  The  sentiment  of  the  scenery 
18  the  same — order,  peace,  and  home  comfort. 

But  I  have  wandered  away  from  the  proposed  disposition 
>f  my  farm.  It  is  to  be  Free  Soil,  I  have  said — whereby  1 
io  not  mean  the  narrower  political,  but  the  larger  social 
sense  of  the  phrase.     If  I  am  lord  of  my  owd  acres,  (aa  thi 


A   COUNTRY    HOME   IN   AMBRICA.  15 

poKticians  say,  addressing  their  agricultural  constituents,) 
I  can  certainly  establish  my  own  social  laws.  In  the  first 
place,  I  proclaim  the  decrees  of  Fashion,  so  far  as  dress  is. 
concerned,  to  be  null  and  void,  anywhere  inside  of  my  lino 
fence.  No  gentleman  shall  there  be  obliged  to  cut  hia 
throat  with  dog-collars,  nor  any  lady  to  present  the  appear- 
ance of  a  smashed  skull,  by  wearing  the  hideous  new  bonnet. 
Understand  that  I  do  not  prescribe ;  I  merely  abrogate : 
my  guests  are  at  liberty  to  wear  the  most  frightful  cos- 
tumes, if  they  please.  I  prefer  beauty  to  deformity — ^that 
is  all. 

Thought  and  speech  (unnecessary  profanity  excepted, 
which,  indeed,  is  not  to  be  presumed  of  any  of  my  guests) 
shall  be  as  free  as  possible.  My  political,  religious,  or  lite- 
rary antagonist,  if  he  be  not  inadmissible  on  personal 
grounds,  shall  have  free  range  of  my  woods  and  fields. 
Believing  that  men  can  only  be  justly  estimated  by  their 
character,  not  by  their  opinions,  I  shall  ask  no  man  to 
declare  himself  on  the  foregoing  points.  I  have  been 
treated  with  brotherly  kindness  by  pious  Mussulmen  and 
noble-hearted  heathen  :  God  forbid  that  I  should  possess  a 
narrower  soul  than  they !  There  is  one  class  of  characters, 
however,  which  will  be  tolerated  on  no  condition.  Hypo- 
critical, insincere,  time-serving  creatures,  shams  of  all  kinds, 
nen  with  creaking  boots,  stealthy  cat-step,  oily  faces,  and 
large  soft  hands,  (which  they  are  always  rubbing) — for  such 
there  is  no  entrance.  To  this  class  belong  most  of  the 
Pharisees,  who,  it  is  needless  to  say,  are  excluded,  severally 
and  collectively.  The  other  variety — the  men  with  thir 
faces,  bilious,  sallow  complexions  and  mouths  depressed  af 


Itf  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

the  comers,  with  a  melancholy  aridity  of  face — the  humai 
Saharas,  in  fact — will  not  seek  me. 

While  I  am  upon  the  subject  of  Prohibition,  it  occurs  to 
me  that  there  are  two  other  classes  of  men  to  whom  the 
laboo  must  necessarily  be  applied.  Those  who  worship  the 
Golden  Calf,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  gods,  are  some- 
times men  of  acquirements,  agreeable  talkers,  candid  and 
consistent  characters,  even.  Where  their  stinginess  is 
heieditary  or  congenital,  I  can  make  great  allowance  for  it. 
I  could  have  torn  down  every  fence  to  let  Wordsworth  in. 
Pope,  who  spent  a  thousand  pounds  on  his  garden,  would 
be  most  welcome,  were  he  living.  But  in  these  examples, 
the  aesthetic  sense  was  as  fully  developed  as  the  acquisitive 
faculty.  Where  the  latter  predominates,  without  any 
counterbalancing  grace  of  mind,  it  is  sure  to  protrude  hate- 
fully in  all  directions.  My  trees,  for  instance,  would 
become  so  ranch  standing  lumber,  my  lawn  a  hay-field,  my 
violets  "  trash,"  in  the  eyes  of  a  genuine  miser.  My  oaks 
would  consider  it  an  insult  to  be  forced  to  cast  their  sum- 
mer shadow  on  such  a  head. 

At  the  outer  gate  I  shall  hang  up  a  large  board,  with  the 
inscription,  "No  Admittance  for  Bores."  Not  that  I 
expect  it  will  do  much  good — for  the  Bore  never  seems  to 
suspect  that  he  is  a  bore.  I  have  known  some  so  pro- 
nounced in  character  that  they  might  almost  be  classed 
under  the  genus  Vampyre,  who  yet  imagined  themselve 
the  most  charming  persons  in  the  world.  Unexceptionably 
dressed,  booted,  gloved,  and  perfumed  regardless  of 
expense,  they  resembled  automatic  figures,  and  exhausted 
j'ou  in  your  attempts  to  find  a  soul,  or  to  infuse  one  into 


A   COITNTRT   HOME   IN    AMEEICA.  H 

them.  You  may  cry  Procul^  0  procid!  until  you  are 
hoarse.  They  draw  all  the  nearer,  complacently  supposing 
that  their  parrot  phrases  are  the  certain  "  Open  Sesame  I" 
o  your  spiritual  crypts.  May  my  Dryads  and  Hamadry- 
ida — or,  if  these  fail,  my  underground  gnomes — find  some 
pell  to  keep  them  oflf!  If  every  other  charm  feils,  I  think 
I  shall  have  a  special  chamber  in  my  house  for  their  accom- 
modation, a  reproduction  of  the  Falterkammer  or  torture- 
chamber  of  the  Middle  Ages,  where  they  shall  sleep 
between  sackcloth  sheets,  breathe  carbonic  acid  gas,  and 
be  visited  at  midnight  by  My  Skeleton,  which  shall  issue 
from  its  closet  in  the  corner.  I  shall  also  assume  a  cha- 
racter for  their  benefit — ridicule  their  ideas,  (if  they  have 
any,)  shock  their  prejudices,  (which  they  always  have,)  and 
so  relieve  myself  of  the  disgust  which  I  feel  for  them  by 
making  them  disgusted  with  me. 

With  the  foregoing  exceptions,  all  honest  men  and 
women  are  free  to  my  soil.  Antagonism  does  not  preclude 
respect  or  admiration.  I  shall  be  happy  to  see  Mr.  H.,  the 
young  Virginian  Christian,  feeling  confident  that  he  will 
not  attempt  to  muzzle  me,  on  my  own  ground.  But  of  all 
visitors,  that  class  described  by  Wordsworth  in  his  "  Poet's 
Grave"  will  be  most  welcome.  The  Poet,  whether  known 
or  imknown,  shall  have  the  range  of  my  pastures.  He  may 
come  with  his  brother,  the  Artist,  by  his  side:  no  question 
will  be  asked  :  the  gate  will  open  of  itself :  the  trees  will 
drop  their  branches  in  salute,  and  if  the  house  be  built, 
banners  will  suddenly  unfold  from  the  topmost  tower. 
They  may  lie  in  the  tropical  shade  of  sassafras  trees  or  bury 
themselves  in  arbors  of  wild-grape;  listen  to  the  song  ef 


18  AT   HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

the  wind  in  the  pines,  or  track  the  hidden  brook  under  iti 
banks  of  concealing  fern.  I  can  number  five  poets,  akeady, 
who  have  given  their  benediction  to  the  landscape,  and  one 
of  them  whom  Nature  has  taken  to  her  heart  as  an  accepted 
lover,  said  to  me,  in  the  hearing  of  my  trees ;  "  Spare  them, 
every  one !"  With  such  guests,  no  secret  beauty  of  my 
possession  shall  remain  undiscovered.  Every  mind  shall  be 
associated  with  some  new  grace,  some  previously  over- 
looked beauty,  until  I  shall  live,  as  in  an  island  of  a  tropic 
sea,  enringed  with  enchanted  warmth  and  bloom. 

Thus  much  may  Life  grant  to  me — but  can  I  keep  out 
the  spectral  visitors  which  enter  every  door  ?  Will  not 
Care  leap  over  my  fence  from  her  perch  behind  the  horse- 
man ?  Will  not  the  tutelar  deity  of  these  United  States — 
the  goddess  Worry — compel  me  to  erect  an  altar  for  her 
worship  ?  Ah,  me !  the  soil  that  is  free  to  light  must  be 
free  also  to  shadow.  The  sun  shines  upon  my  southward- 
eloping  lawn,  but  sometimes  a  gloomy  rain  comes  over  the 
northern  hill.  Well,  if  Care  but  come  hand-in-hand  with 
Cheerfulness — ^if  the  statue  of  Patience  look  with  com- 
posed face  upon  the  knit  brows  of  Worry — my  soil  shall 
be  free,  even  lo  the  persecuting  deities !  Like  Polycrates, 
I  shall  now  and  then  throw  a  ring  into  the  sea.  To  enjoy 
ihe  loan  of  Peace,  which  we  borrow  from  a  Power  outside 
of  this  bankrupt  world,  we  must  pay  an  interest  of  at  least 
ten  per  cent,  of  Trouble. 

But  individual  freedom  is  so  rare  a  blessing  as  to  be 
worth  any  price  a  man  can  pay.  Therefore,  whatever  visi- 
tors take  advantage  of  the  open  gate,  no  immunity  would 
be  quite  so  bad  as  a  padlock.     The  gate  shall  stay  open— 


A   COUNTKY    HOME   IN    AMERICA.  19 

nailed  back,  if  need  be,  like  the  hospitable  doors  of  Tartary 
— and  the  Soil  shall  be  Free  ! 


3. — ^Thb  Building  op  a  Housb. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  when  I  bought  the  old  farm,  iJ 
was  with  the  expectation  of  building  a  house  at  some  time 
or  other.  Not  but  that  I  was  for  the  present  satisfied  to 
possess  and  protect  the  old  trees,  and  to  have  a  basis  of 
reality  for  my  airy  architecture;  but  I  also  looked  far 
ahead,  and  hoped,  at  least,  that  the  necessity  for  a  house 
would  be  among  the  fruits  of  Time.  For,  you  understand, 
a  house  implies  something  more  than — a  house.  Nothing 
in  this  world  should  be  done  without  a  reason  for  it,  and 
the  true  reason,  which  I  could  not  give  at  that  time,  is  one 
which  can  only  come  to  a  man  through  the  favor  of  some 
benignant  Fate. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  pleasant  to  walk  over  the  brieiy 
fields,  and  say:  "In  case  I  should hxald  a  house,  here — or 
here — would  be  a  good  site  for  it."  "  Oh,  not  there," 
would  some  kind  adviser  suggest — "but  here,  in  the 
wood."  "  Nearer  the  road,  by  all  means,"  said  another. 
"  No,  I  should  build  on  the  foundations  of  the  old  house," 
was  the  opinion  of  a  third.  Nature,  however,  had  fixed 
the  true  site  too  palpably  to  be  mistaken,  and  the  discovery 
of  this  fact  saved  me  all  discussion.  Between  my  grove 
of  oaks  and  the  clumps  of  vine-entangled  trees  which  had 
sprung  up  along  the  line  of  the  old  hedge-row,  lay  some 
ten  acres  of  ground,  sloping  gently  toward  the  south-east^ 


20  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

and  dotted  with  the  most  charming  groups  of  cedars  which 
it  is  possible  to  imagine.  In  the  centre  thereof  stood  a 
single  oak,  with  broad  arms  drooping  until  they  touched 
the  ground  in  a  wide  circle  around  its  trunk.  Further 
down  were  five  scattered  chestnut  and  hickory  trees,  a 
glossy  gum,  two  maples,  and  a  bowery  wilderness  of  haw- 
thorns, which,  in  May,  rose  like  mounds  of  snow  against 
the  borders  of  another  grove  on  the  south.  But  in  the 
gaps  between  these  scattered  trees  and  the  groves  on  either 
hand,  cue  could  see  the  village  on  the  hill-top,  a  mile  away, 
and  the  soft  blue  slopes  of  other  and  higher  hills  in  the 
distance. 

Here  was  a  lawn,  ready-made  by  Nature,  such  as  half  a 
century  of  culture  could  scarcely  achieve  elsewhere.  To 
the  north,  where  it  reached  the  highest  portion  of  the 
ridge,  the  ground  was  level  and  bare  of  trees,  except  a 
single  group  of  walnuts,  close  at  hand,  and  two  colossal 
chestnuts,  a  little  to  the  west.  As  the  ground  began  to 
fall  off  northward,  the  cedars  again  made  their  appearance, 
increasing  in  number  as  they  approached  the  edge  of  still 
another  wood,  which  bounded  my  possessions  on  that  side. 
On  this  ridge,  crowning  the  natural  lawn,  sheltered  on  the 
north,  open  to  the  south-east  and  to  the  sunset,  and  sur- 
rounded with  the  noblest  specimens  of  tree-beauty,  was  the 
place.  Having  once  imagined  a  house  there,  it  could 
not  be  removed.  "Why,"  said  I,  "I  have  only  to  cut 
off  these  briers  and  turn  the  sedge-grass  into  sod,  and 
the  building  of  the  house  will  transform  this  wilderness 
mto  an  ancient  park,  suggesting  care  and  culture  every 
nrhere— 


A   COUNTRY    HOME  IN  A&LKSIGA.  21 

•'  an  English  house, — gray  twilight  poured 

On  dewy  pastures,  dewy  trees, 
S(^r  than  sleep— ail  things  in  order  stored, 

A  haunt  of  ancient  Peace." 

Now,  what  kind  of  a  house  shall  I  build  ?  was  the  next 
qaestion  I  asked  myself;  and  I  ran  over  in  my  mind  tht 
Grecian  temples  of  some  years  ago,  the  misnamed  Gothic 
of  to-day,  the  Palladian,  the  Elizabethan,  and  the  Non- 
descript (very  popular),  only  building  to  tear  down  again, 
as  I  saw  some  incongruity,  some  want  of  adaptation  to  cli 
mate,  soil,  and  surroundings.  Soon,  however,  I  hit  upon 
the  truth,  that,  as  the  landscape  was  already  made  and  the 
house  was  not,  the  former  should  give  the  character  of  the 
latter.  I  have  no  choice :  I  must  build  something  that  will 
seem  to  belong  naturally  to  the  lawn  and  the  trees.  Except 
in  a  city,  where  houses  are  the  accessories  of  houses — often 
a  mere  blank  background,  against  which  you  can  paint 
anything — ^the  situation  of  a  dwelling  must  determine  its 
architecture.  The  cottage  that  would  be  charming  beside 
a  willowy  brook,  is  ridiculous  behind  an  avenue  of  elms,  and 
the  mansion  which  dominates  superbly  over  a  broad  and 
spacious  landscape  fails  to  impress  you  when  built  in  a 
secluded  valley. 

The  community,  I  found,  had  settled  the  matter  long 
before  me.  The  house  was  to  contain  something  of  every 
style  of  architecture  which  I  had  seen  in  my  wanderings 
over  the  world.  There  was  to  be  a  Grecian  fa9ade,  with 
one  wing  Gothic  and  the  other  Saracenic ;  a  Chinese  pagoda 
at  one  corner,  an  Italian  campanile  at  the  other,  and  th« 
pine-apple  dome  of  a  Hindoo  temple  between  the  chimneys 


29  AT   UOM£   AND   ABROAD. 

The  doors  would  be  copied  from  Westminster  Abbey, 
the  windows  from  the  Mosque  of  Omar,  the  ceilings  from 
the  Alhambra,  and  the  staircases  from  the  Mormon  temple 
at  Salt  Lake.  The  material,  of  course,  was  to  be  a  mixture 
of  brick,  granite,  porcelain  tiles,  clap-boards,  marble, 
adobes^  and  porphyry.  But  a  man's  life  and  works,  alas  1 
too  often  fail  to  realize  the  expectations  of  his  friends. 

More  than  five  years  elapsed,  from  the  time  the  property 
came  into  my  possession,  before  I  saw  a  good  reason  for 
making  it  habitable.  When  I  came  to  think,  seriously, 
upon  the  plan  of  a  house  which  was  to  be  built  up  with  no 
imaginary  mortar,  but  bond  fide  lime  and  sand,  I  found 
that  the  true  plan  was  already  there,  perhaps  unconsciously 
suggested  by  the  expectant  trees.  It  must  be  large  and 
stately,  simple  in  its  forms,  without  much  ornament — ^in 
fact,  expressive  of  strength  and  permanence.  The  old  halls 
and  manor-houses  of  England  are  the  best  models  for  such 
a  structure,  but  a  lighter  and  more  cheerful  aspect  is 
required  by  our  Southern  summer  and  brighter  sky.  There 
must  be  large  windows  and  spacious  verandas  for  shade 
and  air  in  summer,  steep  roofs  to  shed  the  rain  and  winter 
snow,  and  thick  walls  to  keep  out  our  two  extremes  of  heat 
and  cold.  Furthermore,  there  must  be  a  tower,  large 
enough  for  use  as  well  as  oraament,  yet  not  so  tall  as  to 
belittle  the  main  building. 

This  much  being  settled,  the  next  step  was  so  to  plan  the 
Interior  arrangements  that  they  should  correspond  to  the 
external  forms.  The  true  way  to  build  a  house  is  to  deter- 
mine even  the  minutest  details  before  commencing  the 
work.    In  any  case,  the  interior  is  of  paramount  import 


A    COUNTRY    HOME  IS    AMBBIGA.  28 

ancc,  and  it  is  better  to  get  the  rooms,  staircases,  closets, 
doors,  and  windows  rightly  arranged  at  first,  and  then 
Inclose  them  with  the  external  wall,  than  the  reverse. 
Here,  again,  another  subject  claims  our  consideration — the 
ftirniture,  which  demands  certain  spaces  and  certain 
arrangements.  In  short,  none  of  the  appliances  of  domer- 
tic  life  can  be  overlooked.  I  was  astounded — when  I  camt 
to  the  downright  work  at  last — to  find  what  a  multitude  of 
interests  it  was  necessary  to  harmonize.  The  soul  of  a 
house,  after  all,  which  is  its  character  as  a  home,  is  of  more 
importance  than  the  body. 

I  do  not  propose  to  take  up  the  question  of  the  internal 
details,  as  every  man — or,  rather,  every  man's  wife — has, 
or  ought  to  have,  her  own  views  of  housekeeping,  and  its 
requirements.  I  had  some  general  ideas,  however,  which 
I  determined  to  carry  out,  and  the  result  of  my  experi- 
ence, inasmuch  as  it  has  no  reference  to  individual  tastes, 
may  be  useful  to  others. 

I  saw,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  houses  built  in  this  cen- 
tury are  generally  much  inferior,  in  point  of  comfort  and 
durability,  to  those  built  in  the  last.  Walls  crack,  roofe 
leak,  wood  rots,  plaster  peels  off,  in  a  way  that  would  have 
astonished  our  ancestors.  I  know  of  a  house  in  Maryland, 
two  hundred  years  old,  the  foundation  wall  of  which, 
having  been  completely  undermined  at  one  comer  for  the 
purpose  of  building  a  vault,  held  together  unmoved,  sap 
porting  the  weight  of  the  house  by  lateral  adhesion  only 
Good  mortar,  then,  was  the  first  requisite :  thick  walls,  the 
next :  well-seasoned  timber,  the  third.  The  shells  erected 
in  our  cities,  with  mortar  that  crumbles  and  joists  thai 


14  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

bend  or  cvack,  would  not  be  tolerated  in  Europe.  We 
build  in  the  most  expensive  style  possible — that  is,  sc 
rapidly  and  slightly,  that  a  house  is  ready  to  be  pulled 
down  at  the  end  of  twenty-five  years,  instead  of  being 
habitable  at  the  end  of  five  hundred.  Here,  then,  is  one 
error  which  I  shall  avoid. 

Moreover,  once  in  a  lifetime  is  often  enough  for  most 
men  to  build.  It  is  very  little  more  trouble  to  build  a 
large  house  than  a  small  one,  when  one's  hand  is  fairly  in. 
As  for  running  up  a  building  proportioned  to  your  present 
necessities,  and  then  adding  to  it  as  your  necessities  enlarge, 
I  set  my  face  against  it.  Besides  the  repetition  of  a  dis- 
tracting labor,  the  result  is  generally  an  incongruous  mass, 
where  both  external  beauty  and  internal  convenience  are 
sacrificed.  I  shall,  therefore,  I  said,  build  larger  than  I 
need.  Better  have  a  few  empty  chambers  for  some  years, 
than  build  a  second  time. 

With  regard  to  the  material,  a  stone  house  is  the  most 
beautiful  and  durable,  and,  if  the  external  walls  have  a 
hollow  chamber  (as  they  always  should  have),  as  dry  and 
comfortable  as  any  other.  I  scarcely  know  a  more  appro- 
priate house  for  the  country  than  a  rough,  irregular  stone- 
wall, with  dressed  quoins,  projecting  a  little  beyond  it. 
My  choice,  however,  has  to  be  directed  by  other  considera- 
tions. There  are  both  limestone  and  hornblende  in  the 
mmediate  neighborhood,  and  within  six  miles  quarries 
cf  serpentine ;  but  I  have  a  bed  of  excellent  clay  in  one 
of  my  own  fields.  The  expense  of  hauling  the  stone,  in  a 
hilly  country,  would  alone  equal  the  cost  of  the  brick. 
Borne  architeot  has  said,  that  the  color  of  a  house  should 


A  COUNTBY   HOM£  IN   AMERICA.  26 

always  have  some  resemblance  to  that  of  the  soil  upon 
w^hich  it  stands — which  is  really  a  very  good  general  rule : 
then  why  not  also,  if  you  can,  get  the  material  for  yom 
house  out  of  the  soil  ?  Some  rocks  of  gray,  silvery  sand* 
stone  which  cropped  out  on  the  ridge  at  the  edge  of  the 
oak-wood,  promised  to  furnish  me  with  the  loveliest  mate- 
rial, but  after  furnishing  just  enough  for  the  foundation- 
walls,  the  deposit  suddenly  ceased. 

After  much  deliberation  I  decided  upon  brick,  with 
stone  quoins.  The  clay,  to  my  great  satisfaction,  had  a 
pale  purplish  tinge  when  burned,  instead  of  the  usual 
glaring  red,  and  harmonized  admirably  with  the  bluish- 
gray  granite  of  the  comers.  There  was  such  an  abundance 
of  it  that  I  felt  entirely  free  to  carry  out  my  ideas  with 
regard  to  strength  and  durability.  I  therefore  fixed  the 
thickness  of  the  walls  at  two  feet,  including  a  hollow  cham- 
ber of  an  inch  and  a  half,  and  the  thickness  of  the  inner 
partition- walls  (which  were  also  of  brick)  at  one  foot. 
The  latter,  besides  being  fire-proof  and  almost  impervious 
to  sound,  proved  to  be  as  cheap  in  the  end  as  studs  and 
laths.  The  result  has  satisfied  me  that  no  house  can  be 
truly  comfortable  unless  the  walls  are  thick,  with  a  hollow 
chamber,  or  at  least  firred  on  the  inside.  The  latter  plan, 
however,  does  not  always  insure  complete  dryness.  On 
the  other  hand,  I  have  heard  of  one  brick  wall  of  thirteen 
inches,  which  proved  to  be  quite  dry ;  43ut  in  this  case  the 
mortar  was  of  the  best  quality.  The  additional  thicknes* 
of  the  wall  would  be  paid  for  in  a  few  years  by  the  saving 
iu  fuel,  in  many  parts  of  the  country. 

For  the  finishing  of  the  rooms  there  is  nothing  equal  t« 


26  AT   HO  MB  AND   ABBOAli. 

the  native  wood,  simply  oiled  to  develop  the  beauty  of  the 
grain.  Even  the  commonest  pine,  treated  in  this  way,  haa 
a  warmth  and  lustre,  bedde  which  the  dreary  white  paint, 
so  common  even  in  the  best  houses,  looks  dull  and  dead. 
Nothing  gives  a  house  such  a  cold  uncomfortable  air  as 
white  paint  and  white  plaster.  This  color  is  fit  only  for 
the  tropics.  Our  cheap,  common  woods — pine,  ash,  chest- 
nut, oak,  maple,  beech,  walnut,  butternut — offer  us  a 
variety  of  exquisite  tints  and  fibrous  patterns,  which,  until 
recently,  have  been  wholly  disregarded  in  building.  Even 
in  furniture,  we  are  just  beginning  to  discover  how  much 
more  chaste  and  elegant  are  oak  and  walnut  than  maho- 
gany. The  beauty  of  a  room  is  as  dependent  on  the  har- 
mony of  its  coloring  as  that  of  a  picture.  Some  of  the 
ugliest  and  most  disagreeable  apartments  I  have  ever  seen, 
were  just  those  which  contained  the  most  expensive  furni- 
ture and  decorations. 

My  experience  shows  that  a  room  finished  with  the  best 
seasoned  oak  or  walnut  costs  actually  less  than  one  finished 
with  pine,  painted  and  grained  in  imitation  of  those  woods. 
Two  verandas  of  yellow  pine,  treated  to  two  coats  of  boiled 
oil,  have  a  richness  and  beauty  of  color  beyond  the  reach 
of  pigments ;  and  my  only  regret  connected  with  the  house 
is,  that  I  was  persuaded  by  the  representations  of  mech&> 
nics,  to  use  any  paint  at  all. 

There  is  another  external  feature  which  the  brilliancy 
of  our  sunshine  not  only  suggests,  but  demands.-  Relief  \a 
an  absolute  requirement.  Most  boivses  should  have,  not 
only  a  cornice  proportioned  to  their  dimensions  and  in 
keeping  with  their  character,  but  string-pieces  bet  ween  th« 


A    COITNTBY    HOME   IN    AMEEICA.  27 

stories,  and  window-caps  and  sills  projecting  sufficiently  to 
cast  a  shade.  I  found  also,  that  an  excellent  effect  could 
be  obtained,  without  additional  expense,  by  setting  the 
windows  and  doors  in  raised  panels  of  brickwork,  project- 
ing t\<o  or  three  inches  from  the  face  of  the  wall.  For  the 
string-pieces,  a  simple  row  of  dentils,  formed  by  setting 
out  alternate  bricks,  can  be  made  by  the  most  ordinary 
workman.  Design,  not  cost,  is  the  only  difference  between 
a  fine  house  and  a  poor  one.  The  same  material  used  in 
building  the  plainest  and  dreariest  cube  called  a  house, 
may  be  cast  into  a  form  which  shall  charm  every  one  by 
its  elegance  and  fitness.  I  have  seen  very  beautiful  villas 
— the  residences  of  wealthy  families — on  the  islands  of  the 
Neva,  at  St.  Petersburg,  which  were  built  entirely  of  un- 
hewn logs,  exactly  of  equal  size,  barked,  dovetailed  at  the 
corners,  and  painted  the  color  of  the  wood.  Such  a  house, 
with  a  rustic  veranda  of  unbarked  limbs,  overgrown  with 
our  wild  ivy  or  clematis,  would  make  a  more  beautiful  and 
approj^riate  farmer's  home  than  a  brown-stone  palace. 

Let  me  give  one  more  hint,  derived  from  my  experience, 
to  those  who  may  be  contemplating  a  little  private  archi- 
tecture. Get  all  the  estimates  from  the  various  mechanics, 
add  them  together,  and  increase  the  sum  total  by  fifty  per 
cent.,  as  the  probable  cost  of  your  undertaking:  but  do  not 
say  what  the  real  cost  is  until  everything  is  finished.  T}ien 
you  will  know.  Even  the  estimates  of  the  most  experi- 
enced workmen,  I  have  found,  are  not  to  be  depended 
upon.  It  is  the  ittle  ills  of  life  that  wear  us  out ;  and  it  is 
nkewise  the  little  expenses  that  empty  our  purses. 

However,  let  me  content  myself  that  another  requisition 


S8  Al    HOMB  Am)   ABROAD. 

of  the  Italian  proverb  is  fulfilled — that  the  house  is  built^ 
ami  likely  to  stand  for  two  or  three  centuries,  when,  in  all 
probability,  the  inscribed  stone  over  its  portal  will  be  the 
only  memorial  of  the  name  of  its  builder.  That,  however, 
does  not  concern  me.  "While  I  live,  I  trust  I  shall  have 
my  trees,  my  peaceful,  idyllic  landscape,  my  free  country 
life,  at  least  half  the  year,  and  while  I  possess  so  much, 
with  the  ties  out  of  which  all  this  has  grown,  I  shall  own 
100,000  shares  in  the  Bank  of  Contentment,  and  consider 
that  I  hold  a  second  Mortgage  Bond  on  the  Railroad  to 
the  Celestial  City. 


4. — ^Rbsults  and  Suggkstions. 

Now  that  my  house  has  been  inhabited  for  upwards  of 
eighteen  months — that  sedge  and  briers  have  vanished  from 
the  lawn,  and  thick  green  English  grass  is  usurping  the 
place  of  mullein  and  white-weed  ;  that,  high  over  the  spot 
where  I  once  walked  and  dreamed,  I  now  sit  and  write — it 
may  be  well  to  report,  confidentially,  to  my  friends,  on  the 
result  of  the  plans  already  laid  before  them.  A  kite  of 
fancy  always  flies  more  steadily  when  it  is  weighted  by  a 
tail-bob  of  fact.  Let  no  reader  presume  that  the  foregoing 
papers  are  merely  imaginative.  Every  object  I  have  named 
I  can  still  exhibit  in  proof,  except  the  lower  boughs  of  my 
solitary  lawn-oak  which  a  murderous  farmer  cut  off  during 
my  absence.  The  cedars  unpruned,  but  cleared  of  the 
choking  wilderness  and  given  a  smooth  base  to  stand  upon, 
are  the  admiration  of  strangers.  But  a  single  tree  in  the 
IB^ye  has  been  felled — not  by  my  orders.     The  bees  had 


A   COITNTRY   HOME   IN    AMBBICA.  29 

ehosen  one  of  its  hollow  limbs  for  their  hive,  and  some  un- 
known wretch,  whom  I  have  not  yet  forgiven,  sawed  the 
stately  trunk  asunder  on  a  dark  midnight,  ruining  for  ever 
the  work  of  three  hundred  years  !  The  lightning  has  cu 
a  deep  gash  in  my  tallest  tulip-tree  from  crown  to  root,  and 
the  patriarchal  chestnuts  have  lost  some  boughs  in  a  storm; 
out  they  still  retain  their  twenty-four  feet  of  girth,  hang 
themselves  with  mealy  tassels  in  June,  and  feed  our  squir- 
rels when  the  buiTS  crack  open  in  the  early  frost. 

Meantime,  our  store  of  associations  has  been  enriched  by 
two  discoveries.  The  muck  having  been  removed  from  a 
swamp  in  the  edge  of  a  piece  of  primitive  woodland,  we 
found  underneath  a  compact  bed  of  gravel  and  blue  clay, 
in  which,  four  feet  below  the  surface,  the  pick  unearthed 
the  guard  of  a  sword-hilt.  It  was  of  hammered  brass, 
straight  and  simple  in  form,  with  no  feature  by  which  its 
origin  could  be  determined.  T  am  pretty  sure,  however, 
that  it  is  Swedish,  More  than  two  hundred  years  ago,  the 
troopers  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  landed  on  the  banks  of  the 
neighboring  river ;  and  this  relic,  doubtless,  tells  of  some 
party  of  exploration  sent  inland  from  the  fortress  of  the 
giant  Printz  on  Tinicum  island.  A  hundred  and  thirty 
years  later,  the  armies  of  Howe  and  Comwallis  plundered 
my  farm,  on  the  morning  of  the  Brandywine  battle,  and  it 
is  also  possible  that  the  guard  may  date  from  that  incur 
sion.    I  prefer  the  older  and  more  interesting  conjecture. 

One  morning,  before  the  house  was  built,  we  were  sur- 
prised at  finding  that  two  large  holes  had  been  dug  during 
the  night  near  our  clump  of  walnut-trees,  at  the  coiner  of 
the  ancient  garden.    Who  the  excavator  was,  we  have  never 


80  AT   HOME  AXD   ABROAD. 

oeen  able  to  discover,  but  he  was  probably  some  person  oi 
the  neighborhood  who  had  kept  the  tradition  of  the  buried 
treasure.  That  he  had  found  nothing,  was  evident,  and 
the  fact  of  the  attempt  gave  so  much  color  to  the  tradition 
that  I  was  really  very  glad  it  had  been  made.  I  can  now 
say,  with  tolerable  assurance,  "  somewhere  near  this  spot 
lies  the  treasure" — but  I  shall  take  good  care  not  to  dig  for 
it,  lest  I  should  not  find  it.  The  story  is,  that  one  Fitzpa- 
trick  (properly  known  as  "  Fitz,")  a  noted  highwayman, 
who  was  the  terror  of  collectors  seventy  years  ago,  had  a 
lair  in  the  neighboring  woods,  and  secreted  a  portion  of  his 
spoils  on  the  old  farm.  His  arrest  was  so  unexpected,  and 
he  was  so  carefully  guarded  until  his  execution,  that  he  had 
no  opportunity  of  imparting  the  secret  to  his  confederates. 
The  attempt  to  discover  the  treasure  so  long  afterwards, 
sho^^s  that  the  story  must  have  been  very  generally 
believed. 

The  house  stands  as  I  have  said,  and  the  farm  is  gra- 
dually assuming  an  aspect  of  olden  culture.  One  would 
never  guess  the  wilderness  it  so  recently  was.  Fifty  years 
of  neglect  have  done  for  me  what  twenty  years  of  careful 
landscape  gardening  could  not  accomplish.  The  groups  of 
dark  southern  cedars  suggest  the  planting  of  a  hand  guided 
by  as  true  a  taste  as  Downing's ;  yet  they  have  been  so 
httle  disturbed  that  my  brood  of  owls  still  sit  there  in  the 
summer  evenings  and  hoot  their  melancholy  music.  "We 
have  placed  a  rude  table  and  seats  under  the  walnuts,  and 
lo  I  they  seem  to  have  been  the  bower  of  generations.  The 
bunches  of  blue  and  white  violets,  set  in  among  the  grass 
on  a  sunny  bank,  come  up  in  the  spring  as  naturally  as  i* 


A   COUNTBY   HOME   IN  AMKBIGA.  SI 

they  tad  grown  there  for  a  thousand  years.  Nature  repays 
with  boundless  gratitude  the  smallest  attention  of  hei 
lovers.  She  seems  to  know  every  point  of  finish  that  is 
necessary  for  her  own  completeness,  and  devotes  a  special 
energy  to  the  employment  of  the  offered  help.  Difficult  as 
it  is  to  force  her  into  new  and  unusual  developments,  no- 
thing is  easier  than  to  lead  her  towards  the  beauty  which 
she  herself  suggests. 

Of  the  pines  and  firs  which  I  planted  along  my  northern 
boundary,  not  one  in  fifty  died,  and  their  growth  has  been 
so  constant  and  luxurious  as  to  assure  me  that  they  feel 
themselves  to  be  in  their  true  position.  The  larches  in  the 
openings  of  the  grove  are  no  less  satisfied  with  their  places, 
and  I  have  already  discovered  spots  which  the  elm,  the 
purple  beech,  and  the  magnolia,  will  at  once  recognize  and 
appropriate.  The  experience  of  a  year  satisfies  me  that  thf 
cedar  of  Lebanon,  the  deodar  of  the  Himalayas,  the  Japan- 
ese cryptomeria,  and  the  gigantic  se^'woza  of  California,  can 
be  acclimated  to  my  lawn.  The  deciduous  cypress  of  the 
Southern  States  is  a  near  neighbor ;  the  magnolia  grandi- 
flora  needs  but  a  slight  protection  through  the  winter,  and 
I  am  not  without  hopes  of  the  live-oak.  The  ridge  on 
which  my  house  is  built,  I  find,  is  much  more  favorable  to 
the  growth  of  delicate  trees  and  plants  than  are  the  deep 
and  sheltered  valleys  on  either  side.  The  early  and  late 
frosts  scarcely  touch  us,  and  the  extreme  cold  of  winter, 
besides  being  dry  in  its  character,  is  never  of  long  duration. 
On  this  very  25th  of  November,  the  geraniums,  the  pome- 
gi'auates,  and  the  golden-belled  arbutilon  are  still  growing 
in  the  open  air.     My  latitude,  I  should  explain,  is  39*  50'. 


82  AT   HOALB  AND   ABROAD. 

I  Lope  all  builders  of  houses  will  be  as  well  satisfied 
with  their  work  as  I  am  with  mine.  Not  that  the  plan 
might  not  have  been  bettered  in  many  ways.  There  never 
yet  was  a  house  built  which  its  owner  could  pronounce 
ncapable  of  further  improvement.  Further,  no  new  house 
ever  stood  a  year  without  certain  repairs  being  necessary. 
Build  as  you  may,  a  violent  storm  will  disclose  to  you  the 
fact,  that  there  is  one  leak  in  the  roof;  one  chimney  will 
smoke  when  the  wind  is  in  a  certain  direction ;  one  window 
will  rattle  o'  nights,  and  one  door  warp  so  that  the  bolt 
fails  to  shoot  clear.  But  in  the  main  requisitions,  there  is 
success :  the  thickness  of  the  walls  baffles  alike  cold,  heat, 
and  moisture.  Storms  war  around  us,  and  we  sit  in  a 
calm,  dry,  pure  air.  We  kindle  our  fires  in  the  autumn  a 
fortnight  later  than  our  neighbors,  and  let  them  go  out  a 
fortnight  earlier,  in  the  spring.  In  a  southern  room,  which 
was  not  heated,  the  thermometer  did  not  fall  below  38", 
during  the  whole  of  last  winter,  and  the  hardier  green- 
house plants  throve  finely.  In  fact,  when  the  sun  shines, 
fire  is  scarcely  necessary  in  the  rooms  that  look  towards 
him. 

In  summer,  though  the  shadow  of  no  tree  touches  the 
house,  it  holds  a  core  of  coolness  in  the  midst  of  the 
fiercest  heat.  Thesim,  unchecked,  may  exorcise  his  whole- 
some chemistry.  The  morning  pours  into  our  windows 
R  vitalizing  torrent  of  light,  until  the  air  feels  crisp 
with  electric  vigor :  the  deep  verandas  give  us  shade  as 
the  day  advances,  and  keep  it  until  the  sunset  strikes 
under  them  from  the  opposite  side.  We  thus  receive 
the  beneficent  influences  of  light — we  keep  free  space  for 


A   COrNTEY    HOME  IN   AMBEICA.  83 

the  enjoyment  of  cloud- scenery,  and  the  colors  of  morn- 
ing and  evening — without  being  obliged  to  take  the  glare 
and  heat  with  it.  I  have  always  considered  that  the 
masses  of  foliage  in  which  most  of  our  country-homes  arc 
buried,  are  prejudicial  to  the  health  of  the  occupants 
They  are  necessary,  no  doubt,  as  a  protection,  both  sum 
mer  and  winter,  in  the  absence  of  thick  walls.  A  cottage 
low  enough  to  look  under  a  tree,  may  stand  beside  one ; 
a  large  mansion  should  have  trees  near  it,  but  not  so  close 
as  to  hide  the  out-look  from  its  windows. 

Notwithstanding  I  am  so  new  a  resident  on  my  own 
acres,  I  have  already  hoarded  up  quite  a  store  of  sug- 
gestions as  to  what  may  be  done.  I  perceive  ways  by 
which  I  can  lure  the  returning  Spring  to  my  doors,  in  ad- 
vance of  her  season,  mitigate  the  green  monotony  of  Sum- 
mer, arrange  in  harmonies  or  splendid  contrasts  the  scat- 
tered colors  of  Autumn,  and  even  contrive  a  remedy  for  the 
bleakness  of  Winter.  There  are  quaky  patches  I  can  drain, 
and  groups  of  living  springs,  which  I  can  collect  into  a 
pond.  There  are  unsightly  features  to  be  hidden,  and  gaps 
to  be  opened  for  fairer  views — ^here,  a  bit  of  rough  land  to 
be  smoothed  and  rounded  ;  there,  a  wild  briery  clump  to  be 
spared  for  some  possible  future  office  in  the  scenery.  The 
successful  commander  must  know  his  men,  and  the  gar- 
dener, likewise,  must  have  an  intimate  personal  acquaint- 
ance with  his  trees  and  plants.  If  you  want  a  certain  duty 
performed,  you  must  select  the  individual  best  fitted  to  dis- 
charge it.  I  really  believe  that  plants  %vill  grow  better 
when  they  are  set  out  in  accordance  with  true  taste,  than 
when  taste  is  violated.    A  weeping- willow,  with  its  pen 


34  AT    HOMK    AND    ABROAD. 

dent,  swaying  tresses,  suggesting  reliance  and  dependence, 
would  be  ridiculously  out  of  place  on  the  summit  of  a  cliflF, 
and  it  will  not  grow  there.  A  beech  is  handsomest  in 
groups,  and  it  does  not  thrive  so  well  singly  :  an  oak  is 
most  perfect  when  alone,  or  at  a  respectful  distance  from 
its  brethren.  The  sassafras  is  loveliest  when  it  is  wedded 
to  the  wild-grape,  and  neither  party  languishes  in  the 
union. 

Hence  follows  a  rult;,  simple  enough,  but  which  cannot 
be  repeated  too  often.  Do  nothing  in  a  hurry.  Above  all, 
lift  the  axe  twenty  times  before  you  strike  once.  Do  not 
remove  a  tree,  until  you  have  studied  it  for  a  whole  year — 
until  you  have  seen  its  autumnal  as  well  as  its  summer  hue, 
and  looked  through  its  bare  boughs  to  see  whether  the 
objects  behind  it  would  be  a  gain  or  a  loss  to  the  eye. 
Whenever  you  plant,  take  a  mental  picture  of  the  full- 
grown  tree,  with  its  individual  form  and  color  ;  place  it  in 
the  spot,  and  compare  it  with  the  surroundings.  Substi- 
tute other  trees,  in  your  mind,  so  as  to  suggest  a  different 
effect.  Be  as  patient,  if  you  like,  and  as  hard  to  suit  as  a 
girl  in  selecting  the  ornaments  for  her  hair,  on  the  evening  ' 
of  her  first  ball.  Every  time  you  walk  over  your  grounds, 
perform  this  imaginary  process  of  planting,  until  you  accus- 
tom yourself  to  see  trees,  and  study  their  effects  in  advance 
of  their  growth.  Then,  when  you  plant,  you  may  plant 
deep  and  sure,  with  a  tolerable  certainty  that  your  tree  will 
grow  and  be  a  credit  to  you. 

These  practices  have  taught  me  the  capabilities  (an  auc- 
tioneer's word)  of  the  country  everywhere.  The  superior 
beauty  of  England  is  owing  to  no  inherent  superiority  o^ 


A    COUNTRY    HOME   IN    AMERICA.  35 

soil,  vegetation,  or  climate ;  it  is  simply  development^  aa 
contrasted,  with  our  transition  state.  Here,  one  sees  frag- 
ments of  the  wilderness  all  through  the  oldest  settled  States : 
wood-sides,  where  the  tall  naked  trunks  show  that  the  axe 
has  shaped  their  boundaries ;  spindly  trees  without  indivi- 
duality left  standing  where  woods  have  been  cut  away,  or 
stretches  of  field  and  meadow  Avithout  a  tree.  We  lack 
nothing  which  England  possesses,  but  her  fresh,  perennial 
turf.  Our  tree-forms  are  finer,  and  infinitely  more  varied, 
as  the  forms  of  our  scenery  are  grander.  But  those  who 
will  see  America  in  her  developed  beauty  will  be  our 
descendants  a  hundred  years  hence. 

Thus,  you  see,  the  day-dreams  I  spun  about  the  old  farm 
long  ago,  are  actually  realized.  Nor  have  the  later  dreams 
deceived  me.  The  trees  are  protected,  the  house  is  built, 
and  the  soil  is  free  !  The  poet  and  the  artist  have  tested 
their  right  to  admittance  ;  the  Bore  and  the  Pharisee  have 
shunned  my  gates.  A  few  clumps  of  shrubbery  will  soon 
hide  my  line-fence  from  sight,  and  I  shall  then  possess  the 
entire  landscape.  The  flag  of  the  undivided  Union  floats 
from  my  tower,  and  no  traitor's  footstep  has  yet  blackened 
my  door-sill.  So  much  has  been  changed  from  the  airy 
coinage  of  the  brain  into  the  hard  ringing  gold  of  actual 
life,  that  I  have  no  right  to  grieve  if  a  piece  turns  out  to 
oe  coimterfeit,  now  and  then.  God  is  bountiful  just  in  pro- 
portion as  men  are  able  to  see  His  bounties. 

I  have  often,  at  sea,  gone  on  deck  in  a  dark,  rainy  night, 
Mid  looked  abroad  into  the  wild  confusion  of  wind  and 
wave,  the  chaos  of  the  fatal  elements,  where  life  is  instantly 
swallowed  up.     Yet,  under  ray  feet,  inclosed  within  the 


86  AT   HOME   AUD   ABROAD. 

hollow  timbers,  were  warmth,  and  light,  and  gay  triam- 
phaiit  life — a  shell  of  immortal  existence  rushing  onward 
through  darkness,  over  the  surface  of  death.  It  seems  to 
me  no  leas  miraculous  that  I  have  been  able  to  inclose  a 
portion  of  the  common  atmosphere,  so  that  heat,  cold,  wind, 
and  rain,  must  turn  aside  and  pass  it  by — a  warm  region 
of  secure  life  which  they  cannot  wither  or  blow  away. 
Every  house  is  such  a  miracle — a  geode,  which,  however 
rough  on  the  outside,  beaten  by  the  unkind  elements,  may 
cover  the  hollow  calm  in  which  jewels  ripen.  Not  unrea- 
sonably did  the  old  Romans  adopt  their  lares  and  penates. 
Every  home  attests  the  presence  of  the  Divinity  that  works 
through  man.  But  our  Lar  shall  be  a  Christian  goddesa, 
crowned  with  amaranth  and  olive  ;  and  on  the  borders  ol 
bw  ij^arment  shall  be  written,  '*  Contend.** 


11. 

NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA. 


1. — San  Francisco,  after  Ten  Years. 

When  I  first  landed  in  San  Francisco,  on  the  18th  of 
Atigust,  1849, 1  was  put  ashore  on  a  clay  bank,  at  the  foot 
of  Clark's  Hill.  I  saw  before  me  a  large  encampment  of 
tents  and  canvas  houses,  among  which  some  wooden  build- 
ings arose  with  an  air  of  ostentation.  For  the  fee  of  two 
dollars,  a  Mexican  carried  my  trunk  to  the  Plaza,  where  I 
found  quarters  in  the  loft  of  an  adobe  building — a  rude 
bed,  and  three  meals  of  beefsteak,  bread,  and  coffee,  at 
thiity-five  dollars  per  week.  The  town  was  already  laid 
out,  however,  and  there  was  much  speculation  in  building- 
lots.  About  a  dozen  streets  had  assumed  a  visible  outline, 
but  beyond  the  chaotic  encampment  rose,  bleak  and  barren, 
a  semi-circle  of  high  sand-hills,  covered  with  stunted  chap 
» «ral.     The  population  of  the  place  was  about  5,000. 

On  the  28th  of  August,  1859 — ^ten  years  and  ten  days 


38  AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

later — ^I  found,  instead  of  the  bay  between  Rincon  and 
Clark's  Point,  spacious  and  well-built  streets,  completely 
covering  the  former  anchorage  for  smaller  vessels.  From 
llie  water-fi"ont — which  forms  a  chord  across  the  mouth  of 
the  lost  harbor— stretched  fifteen  massive  piers  out  into  the 
bay.  The  low  ground  iu  front  of  us  was  crowded  with 
warehouses  and  manufactories,  as  the  tall  brick  chimneys 
denoted ;  while  up  the  heights  behind,  stretched  row  after 
row  of.  dwellings,  and  the  diver^g  lines  of  streets,  to  the 
very  summits  of  the  four  hills.  Our  steamer  drew  up  to 
the  end  of  a  pier,  and  made  fast ;  we  were  immediately 
saluted  with  the  cries  of  hackmen  and  omnibus  drivers ; 
runners  with  hotel  cards  jumped  aboard;  residents  (no 
longer  dressed  in  flannel-shirts,  revolver-belts,  and  wide- 
awakes) came  down  to  welcome  returning  friends — in  fact, 
there  was  not  a  Californian  feature  about  the  picture,  if  I 
except  the  morning-blanket  of  gray  fog,  which  the  hills  of 
the  Coast  Range  never  kick  off  until  nine  or  ten  o'clock. 
There  were  no  wash-bowls  to  be  seen  ;  no  picks ;  no  tents ; 
no  wonderful  patent  machines ;  no  gold-dust. 

The  scene  upon  which  I  looked  was  altogether  unfamiliar 
to  my  eye.  Flags  in  the  breeze,  church-spires,  fantastic 
engine-houses,  gay  fronts  of  dwellings,  with  the  animation 
of  the  holiday  crowds  in  the  streets  below,  gave  the  city  a 
gay  Southern  aspect.  Unlike  all  other  American  towns, 
there  was  nothing  new  in  its  appearance.  The  clouds  of 
gand  and  dust,  raised  by  the  summer  monsoon,  speedily 
wear  off  the  gloss  and  varnish  of  newly-erected  buildings, 
and  give  them  a  mellow  tone  of  age  and  use — the  charao- 
teristio,  as  well  as  the  charm  of  Mediterranean  ports 


NEW   PICTUBBS   FEOM   CALIFOBNIA  39 

Without  the  evidence  of  my  own  experience,  I  should 
have  found  it  impossible  to  believe  that  I  looked  upon  the 
product  of  ten  years. 

When  the  fog  bad  rolled  off  seaward,  and  the  soft,  pale- 
blue  sky  of  San  Francisco  arched  over  the  beryl  plain  of 
the  bay  and  its  inclosing  purple  mountains,  I  experienced  a 
mighty  desire  to  shake  off  the  lethargy  of  a  tropical  voyage 
by  a  drive  into  the  country.  I  took  the  precaution,  how- 
ever, to  ask  what  such  a  luxury  would  cost.  "Twenty 
dollars,  probably,"  was  the  answer.  Here  I  began  to 
realize  that  I  had  reached  California.  Nevertheless,  I  was 
about  to  order  a  vehicle,  when  a  friend  placed  his  own 
private  team  at  my  disposal.  We  were  advised  to  take  the 
new  San  Bruno  road,  which  had  recently  been  opened 
beyond  ►ne  mountain  of  that  name,  in  order  to  afford  a 
shorter  and  more  agreeable  road  to  San  Jos6  than  the  old 
trail  over  the  hills. 

The  restless,  excited,  ultra-active  condition  of  mind  and 
body  engendered  (in  myself,  at  least,)  by  the  San  Francisco 
air,  can  only  be  cured,  homcEopathically,  by  draughts  of 
the  same.  People  work  here  as  they  work  nowhere  else 
in  the  world.  The  nor' west  wind,  flavored  with  Pacific 
salt,  which  draws  through  the  Golden  Gate  every  day  at 
noon,  sweeps  away  not  only  disease,  but  sloth,  despondency, 
and  stupidity.  Bulwer  says :  "  On  horseback  I  am  Caesar, 
I  am  Cicero!" — but  that  afternoon,  when  I  saw  again  the 
Mission  Valley,  and  first  breathed  the  heavenly  odor  of  the 
Yerha  Buena.  sitting  behind  a  span  of  noble  bays,  1  was 
Homer,  Pindar,  Alexander  the  Great,  Peter  tliu  Gieat, 
Milo  of  Crotona,  and  General  Jackson,  all  in  one ! 


40  AT    HOME   AND    ABBOAD. 

We  drove  through  an  enchanted  land.  I  thought  I  had 
been  there  before,  yet  everything  I  saw  was  as  new  to  me 
as  it  was  to  my  companion.  Our  hotel  stood  without  the 
bounds  of  the  San  Francisco  of  1849.  Well  I  remembered 
the  three  miles  of  loose  sand  and  thorny  chapparal  which 
intervened  betAveen  the  ridge  terminating  in  Rincon  Point 
and  the  Mission .  of  Dolores.  Now  we  drove  for  half  a 
mile  down  a  broad  welUbuilt  street.  Here  and  there, 
oehind  the  houses,  lowered  a  mound  of  yellow  sand,  like 
the  scattered  forces  of  a  desert  kept  at  bay  and  but  half 
conquered.  The  rear  of  Clay-street  Hill,  dotted  over  with 
small  square  cottages,  resembled  Earth's  picture  of  Tim- 
buctoo.  But  the  Mission  Valley,  in  front  of  us,  green  and 
lovely,  with  a  background  of  purple  mountains,  was  a 
reminiscence  of  the  fairest  scenery  of  Greece.  "Now," 
said  I,  **  have  I  found  the  original  type  of  the  landscap'^s 
of  California !'»  She  has  been  compared  to  Italy — to  Syria, 
with  more  correctness — ^but  her  true  antetype  in  nature  is 
Greece. 

Even  the  vegetation  had  undergone  a  change  since  my 
first  visit.  Along  the  streets,  in  rows,  grew  the  exquisite 
feathery  acacia ;  from  the  balconies,  fuchsias  hung  their 
pendants  of  coral  and  sapphire ;  heliotropes  wantoned  in 
immense  clumps  under  the  windows ;  and  the  fronts  of 
some  of  the  cottages  were  hidden  to  the  eaves  in  the 
scarlet  splendor  of  geraniums.  The  maloa,  here  a  tree, 
opened  its  hundreds  of  pink  blossoms :  the  wild  pea-vine 
of  Australia  clambered  over  the  porticoes,  and  the  willowy 
eucalyptus  flourished  as  If  in  its  native  soil.  The  marshy 
thickets  near  the  mouth  of  Mission  Creek  had  vanished 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  41 

and  vegetable  gardens  filled  their  place ;  on  either  hand 
were  nurseries,  breathing  of  mignonette  and  violets,  an^ 
covered,  chin-deep,  with  superb  roses — huge  bouquets  of 
which  were  offered  us  by  boys,  along  the  road,  at  "  two 
bits"  apiece.  German  beer  and  music  gardens,  the  French 
Hospital,  a  sugar  refinery,  and  groups  of  neat,  suburban 
residences,  which  extended  even  beyond  the  Mission,  com- 
bined to  give  the  valley  an  old,  long-settled  air. 

Near  the  top  of  the  hill,  behind  the  Mission  building,  was 
a  spot  which  I  looked  for  with  a  curious  interest.  In  1849, 
I  had  taken  up  a  claim  there,  had  paid  for  the  sui'vey,  and, 
for  aught  I  could  learn,  acquired  as  secure  a  title  as  most 
others  in  San  Francisco.  My  tract  contained  about  two 
acres — part  of  which  was  stony,  and  all  of  which  was  barren : 
there  was  neither  grass  nor  water,  but  a  magnificent  pros- 
pect. At  that  time,  I  could  scarcely  say  that  I  owned  any- 
thing ;  and  the  satisfaction  which  I  felt  in  sitting  upon  one 
of  my  rocks,  and  contemplating  the  view  from  my  imagined 
front-window,  amply  repaid  me  for  the  surveyor's  fee. 
Where  the  documents  are,  I  have  not  the  least  idea :  whe- 
ther the  claim  was  ever  worth  anything  is  exceedingly 
doubtful ;  but  I  noticed  with  exultation  that  nobody  had 
as  yet  built  upon  it.  I  herewith  magnanimously  present 
the  property  to  the  fii-st  man  who  shall  be  absurd  enough 
(in  all  eyes  but  mine)  to  build  the  house  I  imagined,  and 
enjoy  the  view  I  admired.  And  this  shall  be  sufficient  to 
bim,  his  heirs,  executors,  and  assigns,  to  havo  and  to  hold, 
etc.,  etc. 

Crossing  the  Mission  Creek,  the  road  kept  on,  over  roll 
iug  iiills,  toward  the  San  Bruno  mountain.     On  either  side 


\ 

42  AT   HOME   AKD    ABBOAD. 

were  farms — ^the  fields  divided  by  substantial  fences  of  red- 
wood, the  houses  small  and  one-storied,  but  sufficiently  com 
fortable,  and  the  gardens  luxuriant  with  vegetables.  The 
landscape  was  dotted  with  windmills,  which  are  very  gene- 
rally used  for  irrigation,  and  form  a  marked  feature  in  the 
Agricultural  scenery  of  California.  About  six  miles  from 
the  city,  we  came  upon  a  hill,  divided  by  a  narrow  valley 
from  the  San  Bruno  range.  The  mountains,  lighted  by  the 
oblique  rays  of  the  afternoon  sun,  gleamed  in  the  loveliest 
play  of  colors.  The  tawny  hue  of  the  grass  and  wild  oats, 
brightening  into  lines  of  clear  gold  along  the  edges  of  the  hills 
buttressing  their  base,  brown  on  their  fronts,  and  dark  in 
the  sloping  ravines,  resembled  velvet  of  the  richest  texture  ; 
while  the  farther  peaks — pink  in  light,  and  violet  in  shade — 
gave  the  contrast  of  a  delicate  silk.  A  grove  of  live-oaks — 
slanting  away  from  the  wind  in  such  curious  attitudes  of 
haste,  that  they  seemed  to  be  scampering  at  full  speed  over 
the  hill — stood  in  the  foreground,  while  on  our  left  the 
transparent  green  of  the  bay  shifted  through  blue  into  pur- 
ple, far  off.  For  aerial  beauty  and  harmony  of  color,  I  have 
never  seen  anything  to  surpass  this  view,  except  in  Gree  e. 
My  first  walks  through  San  Francisco  were  devoted  to 
the  search  for  some  old  landmark — some  wooden,  iron,  or 
copper  house  which  had  been  standing  in  1849.  But  I  was 
disappointed :  there  was  nothing  which  I  recognized. 
Four  great  fires  had  swept  away  the  temporary  structures, 
which  had  cost  almost  their  weight  in  silver,  and  stately 
houses  of  brick  or  granite  stood  in  their  places.  Montgo- 
mery street — which  is  now,  as  it  was  then,  the  centre  of 
bu8iu<?ss — would  be  considered  a  handsome,  well-built  street 


SEW  PICTUKES    FKOM   CALIFORNIA.  4S 

anywhere ;  while  the  other  main  avenues,  although  abccmd 
ing  in  cheaply-built  and  hastily-erected  wooden  edifices, 
partake,  at  least,  of  the  same  character  of  life  and  activity. 
San  Francisco,  with  its  population  of  80,000,  has  already 
the  stamp  of  the  great  metropolis  which  it  is  desUned 
to  be. 

Everywhere  change !  I  went  to  the  plaza,  which  I  last 
saw  inclosed  by  gaming-hells  on  three  sides,  and  the  TJ.  S. 
Custom  House  on  the  fourth.  The  flimsy  structures  of '49 
had  vanished  like  an  exhalation — even  the  old  adobe,  with 
its  tiled  roof,  representing  the  early  days  of  California,  was 
gone.  In  place  of  the  Parker  House  stood  a  City  Hall,  of 
Australian  freestone.  A  lofty,  irregular  mass  of  buildings 
•lad  ai-isen  on  all  sides,  dwarfing  the  square,  which,  sur- 
rounded by  a  heavy  iron  railing,  and  devoted  entirely  to 
threadbare  turf  and  some  languishing,  dusty  trees,  had  a 
prim  and  respectable  air,  truly ;  yet  I  missed  the  rude,  fan- 
tastic, picturesque,  unrestrained  life  wherewith  it  was  filled 
ten  years  ago.  The  old  Post-OflSce  had  almost  passed  out 
of  memory,  and  a  structure  much  more  massive  and  spa- 
cious than  our  lubberly  city  of  New  York  can  boast  of 
(which  must  be  content  with  the  most  inconvenient  little 
church  this  side  of  the  Atlantic),  is  now  devoted  to  Mails 
and  Customs.  From  all  parts  of  the  city  rise  the  spires  of 
churches  and  engine-houses,  showing  that  the  most  ample 
provision  has  been  made  for  the  quenching  of  both  spiritual 
and  temporal  fires.  To  complete  the  climax  of  progress, 
San  Francisco  is  more  honestly  governed  than  New  York, 
has  a  more  efficient  police,  and  better  guards  the  lives  and 
property  of  her  citizens. 


i4  AT   HOMB   AND    ABROAD. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  the  advice  of  an  intelligent  engineei 
could  not  have  been  taken,  when  the  city  was  first  laid  out, 
and  thus  the  advantages  of  its  topography  turned  to  better 
account.  The  people  seem  at  first  to  have  cherished  the 
dea  that  the  hills  would  ultimately  be  levelled,  or,  at  least, 
their  tops  thrown  into  the  hollows  between,  so  as  to  pro- 
duce that  uniformity  of  surface  in  which  the  American  mind 
delights.  Great  excavations  have  been  made  at  the  foot 
of  Telegraph  Hill,  but  mainly  for  the  purpose  of  running  a 
street  through  to  North  Beach.  The  other  hills,  however, 
proved  too  formidable ;  and  the  inhabitants  have  at  last 
found  out,  perforce,  that  the  slight  inconvenience  they  occa- 
sion is  a  hundredfold  atoned  for  by  the  picturesque  beauty 
they  confer  upon  the  city,  and  the  charms  which  they 
give  to  a  residence  in  it.  Clay  street  Hill  is  but  little  short 
of  four  hundred  feet  in  height,  and  the  windows  of  the  pri- 
vate houses  on  its  side  command  the  grandest  views  of  the 
city,  the  bay,  the  Golden  Gate,  and  the  Mission  Valley. 
Had  the  streets  been  arranged  terrace-wise  along  the  hills, 
as  in  Genoa,  they  would  not  only  have  been  more  conve- 
nient, but  far  more  beautiful.  It  is  still  not  too  late  to 
remedy  this  mistake,  in  part. 

The  view  of  San  Francisco,  from  either  Rincon  or  Tele- 
graph Hill,  surpasses — I  say  it  boldly — that  of  any  other  Ame- 
rican city.  It  has  the  noblest  natural  surroundings,  and  will, 
in  the  course  of  time,  become  the  rival  of  Genoa,  or  Naples, 
or  even  Constantinople.  From  the  breezy  height  of  Rincon 
the  whole  town  lies  before  you,  rising  gradually  from  the 
water  to  the  summit  of  the  semi-circular  sweep  of  hills.  Its 
prevailing  colors  are  gray,  white,  yellow,  and  pale  red  j 


NEW  FICTUBES  F£OM  CALIIOBIHA.  48 

*'hile,  at  this  distance,  the  very  confusion  and  incongruity 
of  its  architecture  becomes  an  additional  charm.  Ovei 
Telegraph  Hill  rise  the  dark-blue  mountains  of  Angel  Island 
and  Sousolito ;  to  the  right  stretches  the  bay,  with  the 
brown  steeps  of  Yerba  Buena  guarding  the  anchorage, 
while  beyond  all,  the  mountains  of  Contra  Costa,  bathed  in 
the  loveliest  golden  and  lilac  tints,  melt,  far  to  the  north  and 
south,  into  the  distant  air.  I  have  seen  this  landscape,  with 
all  its  grand  features,  of  a  cold,  dark,  indigo  hue,  undei 
heavy  clouds — glittering  with  a  gem-like  brilliancy  and  play 
of  color,  under  a  clear  sky,  and  painted — bay,  islands,  and 
shores — with  the  deepest  crimson  of  sunset,  till  you  seemed 
to  look  on  a  world  smouldering  in  the  fires  of  Doom.  It 
was  therefore  no  marvel  to  me,  when  nine  out  often  of  my 
old  acquaintances  said :  "  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  live 
and  die  here — I  cannot  be  contented  elsewhere.'' 

The  first  thing  which  attracts  the  notice  of  the  stranger 
who  arrives  at  San  Francisco  in  summer,  is  probably  the 
last  thing  which  he  would  expect  to  find  in  so  recently-set- 
tled a  country.  The  profusion,  variety,  and  quality  of  tbe 
fruit  which  he  sees  displayed  on  all  sides  fills  him  with 
astonishment.  What  magic,  he  asks,  has  evoked  from  this 
new  soil  such  horticultural  splendors  ?  What  undiscovered 
nutriment  has  fattened  these  plethoric  apples?  Whence 
did  these  monstrous,  melting  pears  gather  their  juice? 
What  softer  sun  and  sweeter  dew  fed  these  purple  necta- 
rines— these  grapes  of  Eshcol — these  peaches,  figs,  and 
pomegranates  ? 

California,  in  fact,  is  the  Brobdignag  of  the  vegetable 
world.     The   products   of  all  other  lands  are  Lilliputian 


46  A.T   BOMB   AND    ABROAD. 

compared  with  hers.  Erect  your  ears  and  expand  youf 
eyes,  my  reader ;  for  I  am  going  to  tell  the  truth,  and  no- 
thing but  the  truth.  I  forget  the  exact  measurement  of 
the  peaches ;  but  there  are  none  in  the  world  so  large— 
with,  perhaps,  the  exception  of  those  of  Papigno,  in  the 
Apennines.  The  size,  however,  is  not  procured  at  the 
expense  of  the  flavor.  Excessive  irrigation  of  the  orchards, 
it  is  true,  dilutes  their  rich,  ambrosial  quality;  but  the 
peaches  of  Marysville  and  the  lower  slopes  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada  are  not  a  whit  inferior  to  those  of  New  Jersey  or 
Montreuil.  The  skin  has  a  peculiarity  which  I  have  not 
found  elsewhere.  Delicate  as  the  silky  lining  of  an  egg- 
shell, it  peels  off  at  a  touch  ;  and.  the  royal  fruit,  with  its 
golden  and  ruby  nerves  laid  bare,  is  flayed  without  a  Tcnife. 
As  you  crush  it  upon  your  tongue,  you  remember  the  am- 
brosial fruits  upon  which,  according  to  Arabic  tradition, 
Adam  was  fed ;  and  wonder  how  soon  your  breath,  like  his, 
will  be  able  to  turn  the  coarse  growth  of  the  thickets  into 
cinnamon  and  sandal- wood. 

Apples  and  pears  have  been  raised,  weighing  three  pounds 
apiece ;  and  I  have  been  told  of  instances  in  which  the 
fruit  upon  a  tree  weighed  more  than  the  tree  itself.  An 
orchard  begins  to  bear  the  second  year  after  planting ;  and 
the  grafts  upon  an  old  tree  have  yielded  two  hundred 
pounds*  weight  of  fruit  in  the  same  length  of  time.  I  have 
never  seen  a  angle  instance  in  which  the  fruit  was  knotty, 
wormy,  or  otherwise  imperfect.  Nature  seems  to  possess 
not  only  a  fecundity,  but  a  degree  of  health,  unknown  in 
any  other  part  of  the  eartli.  In  Santa  Cruz,  a  peach  tree 
two  years  old  produced  two  hundred  perfect  peaches.  Apple 


NEW    PICTURES   FROM    CALIFORNIA.  41 

trees  sometimes  yield  two  crops  in  the  course  of  a  singl* 
Beason.  The  extent  to  which  fruit  is  already  cultivated  in 
California  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  the  peach 
trees  in  the  State  number  2,000,000  ;  apple  trees,  750,000 ; 
jind  pear  trees,  100,000.  The  number  of  grape-vines  ie 
estimated  at  Jive  millions,  the  average  yield  of  which  i 
fourteen  pounds  of  grapes  for  each  vine. 

A  few  days  after  our  arrival  at  San  Francisco,  the  annual 
Fair  of  the  Horticultural  Society  was  held.  It  was  a  sin- 
gular collection  of  vegetable  monstrosities.  I  saw,  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life,  cabbage-heads  weighing  between  fifty 
and  sixty  pounds  ;  onions  as  large  as  my  head ;  and  celery 
that  threatened  to  overtop  corn-stalks  and  sugar-cane. 
Upon  one  table  lay  a  huge,  dark-red  object,  about  the 
thickness  of  my  body.  At  a  distance,  I  took  it  for  the 
trunk  of  some  curious  tree ;  but  on  approaching  nearer,  I 
saw  that  it  was  a  single  beet,  weighing  115  pounds!  The 
seed  was  planted  in  the  spiing  of  1858 ;  and  when  taken 
up  in  the  fall  of  that  year,  the  root  weighed  43  pounds. 
The  owner,  desiring  to  procure  seed  from  so  fine  a  specimen, 
planted  it  again  last  spring.  But  it  wouldn't  go  to  seed  ! 
It  devoted  all  its  energies  to  growing  bigger ;  and  here  it 
was,  sound  throughout,  and  full  of  a  life  which  seemed 
almost  supernatural.  I  was  glad  to  learn  that  it  was  to  be 
planted  again  the  next  spring,  and  perhaps  the  year  after 
— tk  3  owner  having  declared  that  he  would  keep  on  plant 
ng  it  until  it  reached  a  thousand  pounds,  or  consented  tt 
run  to  seed ! 

The  circumstances  under  which  I  visited  San  Francisco 
naturally  procured  for  us  a  very  pleasant  introduction  to 


48  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

its  society.  Besides,  many  of  my  friends  of  '49  were  sliL 
residing  there,  no  longer  lonely  and  homeless,  enduring  a 
virtual  exile  for  the  sake  of  speedy  gain,  but  with  their 
families  around  them,  working  with  more  moderation,  and 
finding  a  permanent  and  happy  home  in  the  spot  which 
they  first  looked  upon  as  a  temporary  stopping-place.  Ac 
tiye  as  their  life  is,  it  does  not  wholly  prohibit  a  fair  amount 
of  social  relaxation.  Society  there  is  also  too  new  to  set 
up  exclusive  barriers;  its  tone  is  liberal  and  metropolitan, 
and  the  mingling  of  so  many  various  elements  relieves  it  of 
that  prim,  respectable  dulness  which  characterizes  some  of 
our  older  cities.  The  society  of  San  Francisco  seems  to 
me  to  be  above  the  usual  average  of  refinement  and  culti- 
vation, which  IS  partly  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  female 
portion  has  improved  even  more  by  transplantation  than  the 
male. 

As  we  in  the  Atlantic  States  often  exaggerate  the  pre- 
vailing fashions  of  Europe,  so  in  California  there  is  a  still 
further  exaggeration.  Nowhere  are  wider  hoops  expanded, 
smaller  bonnets  placed  against  the  head,  or  more  baibaric 
circles  of  gold  attached  to  the  ears.  Nowhere  are  the 
streets  swept  with  such  expensive  silks.  Few  of  the  dwell- 
ing-houses, as  yet,  admit  of  very  luxurious  entertainments, 
but  it  is  easy  to  foresee  that  this  additional  field  of  expen- 
diture will  ere  long  be  opened.  Where  there  is  so  much 
female  beauty,  and  where  so  many  of  the  gentlemen  have 
unlearned  habits  of  close  economy,  luxury  is  the  natural 
result.  Why,  even  servant-girls  in  California  dress  in  silk 
and  wear  twenty-dollar  bonnets  ! 

I  had  the  best  opportunity  for  judging  of  the  average 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  49 

cultivation  of  the  San  Franciscans.  A  lecturer  sees  people 
collectively^  as  well  as  individually,  and  takes  their  intellec- 
tual measure  by  the  impressions  which  come  to  him  in  a 
single  hour — ^nor  are  such  rapid  conclusions  as  he  draws 
generally  far  from  the  truth.  Holmes  says  that  a  popular 
lecture  should  contain  nothing  which  five  hundred  people 
cannot  understand  and  appreciate  at  the  same  instant : 
therefore,  when  a  lecturer  finds  that  five  hundred  out  of  a 
thousand  are  following  him  closely,  treading  securely  and 
evenly  in  the  tracks  of  his  thought,  he  may  be  sure  that 
their  mental  calibre  is  at  least  equal  to  the  bore  and  range 
of  his  own  mind.  In  San  Francisco,  lectures  (at  least  spe- 
cial importations  for  that  object)  were  new :  curiosity  no 
doubt  contributed  to  the  success  of  the  experiment,  but  it 
was  none  the  less  a  test  of  the  cultivation  of  the  audience. 
The  impression  made  upon  me  was  precisely  similar  to 
that  produced  in  Boston.  At  first,  there  was  the  usual 
amount  of  curiosity,  followed  by  an  uncertain  silence  and 
impassiveness.  Judgment  was  held  in  abeyance;  each 
depended  a  little  on  the  verdict  pronounced  by  others,  but 
all  at  last  silently  coalesced  unto  a  mutual  understanding, 
and  were  thenceforth  steadily  attentive,  critical,  and  appre- 
ciative. These  phases  of  the  mind  of  an  audience  are  not 
betrayed  by  any  open  demonstration.  They  communicate 
themselves  to  the  mind  of  the  lecturer  by  a  subtle  mag- 
netism which  he  cannot  explain,  yet  the  truth  of  which  is 
positive  to  his  mind.  I  am  sometimes  inclined  to  think 
that  there  is  as  distinct  an  individuality  in  audiences  as  there 
is  in  single  persons.  The  speaker,  after  a  little  practice,  is 
able  to  guess  the  average  capacity  as  well  as  the  average 


iO  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

cultivation  of  those  whom  he  addresses.  Thus,  not  with 
standing  the  heterogeneous  character  of  the  population  of 
California,  the  companies  to  whom  I  lectured  made  no 
divided  impression  upon  me ;  each  community,  new  as  h 
vas,  had  already  its  collective  character 


2. — ^Thb  Valley  op  Sak  Josfi. 

Having  made  arrangements  to  give  two  lectures  in  San 
Jos6,  I  availed  myself  of  the  kind  offer  of  Mr,  Haight,  of 
the  Mercantile  Library  of  San  Francisco,  who  proposed 
conveying  us  thither  in  his  carriage.  The  distance  is  fifty- 
one  miles — San  Jose  lying  in  the  mouth  of  the  celebrated 
valley  of  the  same  name,  which  stretches  southward  for 
forty  miles  between  the  two  ranges  of  the  Coast  Mountains 
— having  once  been,  from  all  appearance,  a  portion  of  San 
Fiancisco  Bay.  I  had  been  over  the  road  four  times  in 
1849 — once  on  foot,  once  in  a  cart,  and  twice  on  muleback 
— and  flattered  myself  that  I  was  thoroughly  familiar  with 
the  country  ;  but  I  soon  found  I  knew  very  little  about  it. 
The  difference  between  a  trail  through  a  wilderness  And 
a  fenced-in  road,  with  bridges,  taverns,  incipient  villages 
even,  scattered  along  it,  was  greater  than  I  had  imagined. 

"  Where  are  the  nine-league  ranches  of  the  native  Cali 
fomians  ?'*  I  asked. 

"They  have  been  swindled  out  of  them." 

"  Where  are  the  grizzly  bears  and  coyotes  f* 

«  They  |)ave  been  killed  off." 


NBW   PICTUBES   FBOH   CALIFORNIA.  51 

"  Where  are  the  endless  herds  of  cattle  ?" 
"  Butchered  for  the  San  Francisco  market." 
"  Who  cut  down  the  magnificent  trees  that  once  sto  >d 
here?" 
"The  Pikes." 

Here  I  must  make  an  explanation.  A  "Pike,"  in  the 
California  dialect,  is  a  native  of  Missouri,  Arkansas,  North- 
ern Texas,  or  Southern  Illinois.  The  first  emigrants  that 
came  over  the  plains  were  from  Pike  county,  Missouri ; 
but  as  the  phrase,  "  a  Pike  county  man,"  was  altogether 
too  long  for  this  short  life  of  ours,  it  was  soon  abbreviated 
into  "a  Pike."  Besides,  the  emigrants  from  the  afore- 
mentioned localities  belonged  evidently  to  the  same  germs^ 
and  the  epithet  "  Western"  was  by  no  means  sufiiciently 
descriptive.  The  New  England  type  is  reproduced  in 
Michigan  and  Wisconsin;  the  New  York,  in  Northern 
Illinois ;  the  Pennsylvania,  in  Ohio  ;  the  Virginia,  in  Ken- 
tucky ;  but  the  Pike  is  a  creature  different  from  all  these. 
He  is  the  Anglo-Saxon  relapsed  into  semi-barbarism.  He 
is  long,  lathy,  and  sallow ;  he  expectorates  vehemently ; 
he  takes  naturally  to  whisky  ;  he  has  the  "  shakes"  his  life 
long  at  home,  though  he  generally  manages  to  get  rid  of 
them  in  California ;  he  has  little  respect  for  the  rights  of 
others ;  he  distrusts  men  in  "  store  clothes,"  but  venerates 
the  memory  of  Andrew  Jackson ;  finally,  he  has  an  impla* 
cable  dislike  to  trees.  Girdling  is  his  favorite  mode  of 
exterminating  them;  but  he  sometimes  contents  himself 
with  cutting  off  the  largest  and  handsomest  limbs.  When 
he  spares  one,  for  the  sake  of  a  Ettle  shade  near  his  hotUM^ 
he  whitewashes  the  trunk. 


52  AT   HOMS  AND   ABROAD. 

In  all  parts  of  California  you  now  find  the  Pike.  In  the 
valleys  of  San  Jos^,  Napa,  and  Russian  River,  he  hae 
secured  much  of  the  finest  land.  But  some  of  his  original 
characteristics  disappear,  after  he  has  been  transplanted  for 
a  few  years.  He  wears  a  tan-colored  wide-awake ;  sits  in 
a  Mexican  saddle ;  becomes  full  and  ruddy,  instead  of  lank 
and  sallow ;  and  loses  his  chronic  bitterness  of  spirit  as  "the 
shakes"  cease  to  torment  him.  If  he  would  but  pay  a  little 
more  attention  to  the  education  of  his  children,  the  young 
Pikes,  or  Pickerels,  might  grow  up  without  those  qualities 
which  have  made  their  parents  rather  unpopular.  The 
name  "  Pike  "  is  a  reproach — a  disparagement,  at  least — 
in  most  parts  of  California. 

Following  the  new  turnpike  until  we  had  passed  the  San 
Bruno  Mountain,  we  came  upon  the  rich  level  country 
beyond,  as  the  .sun,  driving  the  dull  fog-clouds  seaward 
before  him,  brought  warmth  to  the  air  and  color  to  the 
landscape.  On  one  side  were  salt  marshes,  whereon  hun- 
dreds of  cattle  were  grazing;  on  the  other,  white  farm- 
houses, nestled  in  live-oak  groves,  at  the  bases  of  the  yellow 
hills.  I  looked  eagerly  for  the  ranohe  of  Sanchez,  where  I 
had  twice  passed  a  night ;  but,  though  our  road  led  us 
directly  past  the  house,  I  failed  to  recognise  it.  The  mud- 
colored  adobe  hut,  with  its  tiled  roof,  had  been  transformed 
into  a  white  building,  with  shining  roof  and  a  broad  veranda 
All  the  surroundings  were  changed ;  other  buildings  had 
sprung  up  in  the  neighborhood ;  and  the  very  face  of  the 
landscape  seemed  no  longer  the  same. 

I  noticed  with  pleasure  that  the  settlers  had  generally 
jielected  the  sites  of  their  houses  with  good  taste,  building 


SEW  PICrUSBS  FfiOBl  CALIPOBNIA.  5S 

them  in  the  midst  of  the  superb  natural  parks,  which  were 
aot  always  wantonly  hewed  away.  The  architecture,  also, 
was  well  adapted  to  the  country  and  climate — simple  forms, 
roofs  flatter  than  usual,  and  always  spacious  verandas, 
sometimes  encircling  the  whole  house.  As  there  is  no  snow, 
and  but  little  frost  (the  thermometer  never  falling  below 
20°),  both  paint  and  stucco  are  very  durable;  and  the 
cheerfid,  airy  architecture  of  Southern  Europe  will,  in  the 
end,  be  preferred  to  any  other.  What  a  country  this  will 
be,  when  stately  mansions,  adorned  with  art  and  taste, 
replace  the  first  rude  dwellings,  and  the  noble  parks  sur- 
round the  homes  for  which  they  have  waited  thousands  of 
years ! 

To  me,  there  is  no  delight  of  the  senses  quite  equal  to 
that  of  inhaling  the  fragrance  of  the  wild  California  herb — 
the  "  yerba  buena  "  of  the  Spaniards,  the  "  tar  weed  "  of 
the  Pikes,  It  if  a  whitish,  woolly  plant,  resembling  life 
everlasting,  and  exudes,  when  mature,  a  thick  aromatic 
gum.  For  leagues  on  leagues  the  air  is  flavored  with  it — 
a  rich,  powerful,  balsamic  smell,  almost  a  taste,  which  seems 
to  dilate  the  lungs  like  mild  ether.  To  inhale  such  an  air 
is  perfect  ecstasy.  It  does  not  cloy,  like  other  odors  ;  but 
strengthens  with  a  richer  tonic  than  the  breath  of  budding 
pmes.  If  Zdfe  had  a  characteristic  scent,  this  would  be  it: 
that  a  man  should  die  while  breathing  it,  seems  incredible. 
A  lady  with  weak  nerves  informed  me  that  it  made  her  sick 
— but  some  persons  "  die  of  a  rose,  in  aromatic  pain."  To 
me,  it  stirs  the  blood  like  a  trumpet,  and  makes  the  loftiest 
inspiration  easy.  I  write  pociiis,  I  paint  pictures,  I  carve 
statues,  I  create  history.     If  I  should  live  to  be  old,  and  fee3 


64  AT   HOMB  A17D  ABROAD. 

my  faculties  failing,  I  shall  go  back  to  restore  the  sensations 
of  youth  in  that  wonderful  air.        / 

After  a  ride  of  twenty  miles,  we  passed  some  nobl 
ranches  of  2,000  acres  each,  and  approached  San  Mateo. 
The  deep,  dry  bed  of  the  creek,  shaded  with  enormous  bay 
trees,  chestnuts,  and  sycamores,  was  fresh  in  my  recolleo 
tion.  The  glorious  trees  were  still  standing ;  but  among 
them,  on  the  right,  rose  a  beautiful  Gothic  residence  ;  and 
after  we  had  crossed  the  arroyo  on  a  wooden  bridge,  we 
drew  up  at  a  handsome  hotel  on  the  left.  Everywhere, 
neatness,  comfort,  and  a  profusion  of  shrubs,  flowers,  and 
vines.  Opposite  the  hotel  was  the  country  residence  of 
Captain  Macondray,  my  fellow-passenger  ten  years  ago^ 
now  one  of  the  oldest  inhabitants,  happy  in  a  success  which 
he  has  wholly  deserved.  As  we  reached  the  house,  through 
a  lawn  dotted  with  glittering  bays  and  live-oaks,  the  cap- 
tain came  out  to  welcome  us ;  and  I  could  not  refrain  from 
expressing  my  delight  that  San  Mateo  had  fallen  into  hands 
which  will  protect  its  beauty. 

Our  walk  through  the  garden  was  marked  by  a  succes- 
sion of  exclamations.  Such  peaches,  such  pears,  such  apples 
and  figs  1  What  magic  is  there  in  this  virgin  soil  ?  The 
wild  crab  is  as  far  behind  the  products  of  our  Atlantic 
orchards,  as  are  the  latter  behind  the  fruit  that  we  saw. 
Colossal,  splendidly  colored,  overflowing  with  delicious 
juice,  mthout  a  faulty  specimen  anywhere,  it  was  truly 
the  perfection  of  horticulture.  In  a  glass-house  (necessary 
only  to  keep  off  the  cool  afternoon  winds)  we  found  the 
black  Hamburg,  the  Muscatel,  and  other  delicate  grapes, 
laden  from  root  to  tip  with  clusters  from  one  to  two  feet  in 


VTEW   PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  56 

length.  The  heaps  of  rich  color  and  perfume,  on  the  tablt 
to  which  we  were  summoned,  were  no  less  a  feast  to  the 
eye  than  to  the  palate. 

Continuing  our  journey,  we  bowled  along  merrily  over 
the  smooth,  hard  road,  and  presently.  Redwood  City,  the 
county-seat,  came  in  sight.  Ten  miles  ahead,  towered  the 
solitary  redwood,  two  hundred  feet  in  height — the  old 
landmark  of  the  valley.  The  town  numbers  perhaps  foui 
or  five  hundred  inhabitants,  having  grown  up  within  the 
last  four  or  five  years.  Beyond  this,  the  quality  of  the  soil 
deteriorates  somewhat ;  the  sea  winds,  sweeping  over  gaps 
in  the  coast-range,  giving  a  rawness  to  the  air,  and  fringing 
every  branch  of  the  oaks  with  long  streamers  of  gray  moss. 
This  part  of  the  road  would  have  been  monotonous,  but  for 
the  magnificent  frame  of  mountains  which  inclosed  it.  The 
bay,  on  our  left,  diminished  to  a  narrow  sheet  of  silvery 
water,  and  the  ranges  on  either  hand  gradually  approached 
each  other,  their  golden  sides  no  longer  bare,  but  feathered 
with  noble  groves  of  oak  and  redwood.  All  along  this 
Jornada  of  twenty  miles  without  water — as  it  was  ten  years 
ago — farm  now  succeeds  to  farm,  the  whirling  wind-mill 
beside  every  house,  pumping  up  orchards,  and  gardens  to 
beautify  the  waste. 

After  crossing  San  Francisquito  Creek,  finding  our  appe- 
tites waxing  in  the  keen  air,  we  looked  out  for  a  tavern 
The  first  sign  we  saw  was  "Uncle  Jim's,"  which  was  enti 
cingly  familiar,  although  the  place  had  an  air  of  "  Pike.' 
Our  uncle  was  absent,  and  there  were  actually  four  loafers 
in  the  bar-room.  That  men  with  energy  enough  to  cross 
Jbe  Plains,  should  "  loa^"  in  a  country  ten  years  old,  is  a 


56  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

thing  which  I  would  not  have  believed  if  I  had  not  seen  it 
The  house  betrayed  its  antiquity  by  the  style  of  its  con- 
struction. Instead  of  being  lathed  and  plastered,  the  walk 
and  ceilings  were  composed  of  coarse  white  muslin,  nailed 
upon  the  studs  and  joists.  This  is  the  cheap,  early  method 
of  building  in  California,  and  insures  sufficient  privacy  to 
the  eye,  though  none  at  all  to  the  ear.  Every  room  is  a 
Cave  of  Dionysius.  Whatever  is  whispered  ir,  the  garret, 
is  distinctly  heard  in  the  cellar.  There  can  be  no  family 
feuds  in  such  a  house ;  Mrs.  Caudle  might  as  well  give  her 
lectures  in  public. 

A  further  drive  of  ten  mil^,  brought  us  to  Santa  Clara, 
The  old  Jesuit  Mission,  with  its  long  adobe  walls,  tiled 
roof,  quaint  Spanish  church,  and  orchards  hedged  with  the 
fruitbearing  cactus,  were  the  same  as  ever;  but  beyond 
them,  on  all  sides,  extended  a  checkerwork  of  new  streets 
— brick  stores,  churches,  smiling  cottages,  in  the  midst  of 
gardens  and  orchards,  which  seemed  unnaturally  preco- 
cious. Here  both  the  Catholics  and  Methodists  have  large 
and  floui-ishing  schools. 

The  valley,  bathed  in  sunset,  lay  before  us,  calm  and 
peaceful  as  Eden.  The  old  avenue  of  trees  still  connects 
Santa  Clara  with  San  Jose ;  but  as  we  drove  along  it,  I 
looked  in  vain  for  the  open  plain,  covered  with  its  giant 
growth  of  wild  mustard.  The  town  now  lies  imbedded  in 
)i-chards,  over  whose  low  level  green  rise  the  majestic 
orms  of  the  sycamores,  which  mark  the  course  of  the 
stream.  As  the  eastern  mountains  burned  with  a  deep 
rose-color,  in  the  last  rays  of  the  sim,  the  valley  strikingly 
reminded  me  of  the  Plain  of  Damascus ;  color,  atmosphere 


NEW   PICrUBBS   FSOM   CALIFORNIA,  6^ 

and  vegetation  were  precisely  the  same — ^not  less,  but  even 
more  lovely.  But  in  place  of  snowy  minarets,  and  flat 
oriental  domes,  there  were  red  brick  masses,  mills,  and 
clumsy  spires,  which  (the  last)  seemed  not  only  occidental, 
but  accidental,  so  little  had  they  to  do  with  architectural 
rules. 

San  Jose,  nevertheless,  is  a  very  beautiful  little  town. 
Many  of  the  dwellings  recently  erected  are  exceedingly 
elegant,  and  its  gardens  promise  to  be  unsurpassed.  Its 
growth  has  been  slow  (the  population,  at  present,  not 
exceeding  twenty-five  hundred),  but  it  has  scarcely  recc 
vered  from  the  misfortune  of  having  been  the  State  capita.. 
The  valley  in  which  it  lies  is  one  of  the  most  favored  spots 
in  the  world,  in  point  of  fertility,  salubrity  of  climate,  and 
natural  beauty.  When  the  great  ranches  are  properly 
subdivided,  as  they  will  be  in  time,  and  thousands  live 
where  units  are  now  living,  there  will  be  no  more  desirable 
place  of  residence  anywhere  on  the  Pacific  coast. 

What  a  day  was  that  which  succeeded  our  arrival !  As 
Howadji  Curtis  says  :  "  Opals  and  turquoises  are  the  earth's 
efforts  to  remember  a  sky  so  fair.''  As  soon  as  the  last 
fringe  of  fog  disappeared,  and  the  valley  smiled  in  cloud- 
less sunshine,  we  twain,  seated  in  a  light  bnggy,  behind  an 
enthusiastic  horse,  set  out  for  the  mines  of  New  Almaden. 
Our  road  led  southward,  up  the  valley.  Near  the  town, 
the  soil,  baked  by  four  months  of  uninterrupted  sun,  and 
©ulverized  by  thousands  of  wheels,  was  impalpable  dust 
for  six  inches  deep ;  but  the  breeze  blew  it  behind  us,  until 
«ome  eddy  caught  and  whirled  it  into  slender,  smoky 
pillars,  moving  across  the  yellow  stubble-fields  until  thej 


58  ^  AT  HOMB  AND  ABROAD. 

dissolved.  After  three  or  four  miles,  however,  the  road 
became  firm,  and  gloriously  smooth ;  and  the  ambrosial 
herb,  which  had  been  driven  back  by  gardens  and  orohards, 
poured  its  intoxicating  breath  on  the  air. 

Now,  how  shall  I  describe  a  landscape  so  unlike  anything 
else  in  the  world — with  a  beauty  so  new  and  dazzling  that 
all  ordinary  comparisons  are  worthless?  A  valley  ten 
miles  wide,  through  the  centre  of  which  winds  the  dry  bed 
of  a  winter  stream,  whose  course  is  marked  with  groups 
of  giant  sycamores,  their  trunks  gleaming  like  silver 
through  masses  of  glossy  foliage :  over  the  level  floor  of 
this  valley  park-like  groves  of  oaks,  whose  mingled  grace 
and  majesty  can  only  be  given  by  the  pencil :  in  the  distance, 
redwoods  rising  like  towers ;  westward,  a  mountain-chain, 
nearly  four  thousand  feet  in  height — showing,  through  the 
blue  haze,  dark-green  forests  on  a  background  of  blazing 
gold  :  eastward,  another  mountain-chain,  full-lighted  by  the 
sun — rose-color,  touched  with  violet  shadows,  shining  with 
a  marvellous  transparency,  as  if  they  were  of  glass,  behind 
which  shone  another  sun :  overhead,  finally,  a  sky  whose 
blue  lustre  seemed  to  fall,  mellowed,  through  an  interven- 
ing veil  of  luminous  vapor.  No  words  can  describe  the 
fire  and  force  of  the  coloring — ^the  daring  contrasts,  which 
the  difference  of  half  a  tint  changed  from  discord  into  har- 
mony. Here  the  Great  Artist  seems  to  have  taken  a  new 
palette,  and  painted  his  creation  with  hues  unknown  else- 
where. 

Driving  along  through  these  enchanting  scenes,  I  indulged 
in  a  day-dream.  It  will  not  be  long,  I  thought — I  may 
live  to  see  it  before  my  prime  of  life  is  over — ^until  Sau 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  50 

Jo8^  is  l)ut  a  five-days'  journey  from  New  York  Cam 
which  shall  be,  in  fact,  travelling-hotels,  will  speed  on  an 
unbroken  line  of  rail  from  the  Mississippi  to  the  Pacific. 
7%ew,  let  me  purchase  a  few  acres  on  the  lowest  slope  of 
these  mountains,  overlooking  the  valley,  and  with  a  distant 
gleam  of  the  bay :  let  me  build  a  cottage,  embowered  in 
acacia  and  eucalyptus,  and  the  tall  spires  of  the  Italian 
cypress :  let  me  leave  home  when  the  Christmas  holidays  are 
over,  and  enjoy  the  balmy  Januaries  and  Februaries,  the 
heavenly  Marches  and  Aprils  of  my  remaining  years  here, 
returning  only  when  May  shall  have  brought  beauty  to  the 
Atlantic  shore !  There  shall  my  roses  out-bloom  those  of 
Psestum:  there  shall  my  nightingales  sing,  my  orange- 
blossoms  sweeten  the  Mr,  my  children  play,  and  my  best 
poems  be  written ! 

I  had  another  and  a  grander  dream.  A  hundred  years 
had  passed,  and  I  saw  the  valley,  not,  as  now,  only  partially 
tamed  and  revelling  in  the  wild  magnificence  of  Nature, 
but  from  river-bed  to  mountain-summit  humming  vrith 
human  life.  I  saw  the  same  oaks  and  sycamores,  but  their 
shadows  fell  on  mansions  which  were  f^r  as  temples,  with 
their  white  fronts  and  long  colonnades :  I  saw  gardens, 
refreshed  by  gleaming  fountains — statues  peeping  from  the 
gloom  of  laurel  bowers — palaces,  built  to  enshrine  the  new 
Art  which  will  then  have  blossomed  here — culture,  plenty, 
peace,  happiness  everywhere.  I  saw  a  more  beautiful  race 
in  possession  of  this  paradise — a  race  in  which  the  lost 
symmetry  and  grace  of  the  Greek  was  partially  restored — 
the  rough,  harsh  features  of  the  original  type  gone — mildei 
manners,  better-regulated  impulses,  and  a  keener  apprecia 


60  AT  HOME  AND  ABEOAD. 

tion  of  all  the  arts  which  enrich  and  embellish  life.  Waf 
It  only  a  dream  ? 

After  a  drive  of  ten  miles,  we  drew  near  the  base  of  the 
western  mountdns,  and  entered  a  wilder,  bat  not  lesa 
beautiflil  region.  The  road  led  through  a  succession  of 
open,  softly-rounded  hills,  among  which  the  first  settlers 
were  building  their  shanties.  The  only  persons  we  met 
were  Mexicans,  driving  carts,  who  answered  my  questions 
in  Spanish.  Three  miles  further,  a  deep,  abrupt  glen 
opened  on  our  right.  The  hot,  yellow  mountain-sides  shut 
out  the  breeze,  and  the  sun  shone  fiercely  upon  the  deep, 
dazzling  green  of  the  trees  which  overhung  a  little  brook 
below  us.  Presently  we  reached  a  large,  white  mansion, 
surrounded  by  a  garden  of  fig,  peach,  and  pomegranate 
trees.  A  uniform  row  of  neat  wooden  cottages  followed ; 
and  beyond  them,  on  an  open  space,  rose  the  tall,  black 
chimneys  of  the  smelting-furnaces.  This  was  New 
Almaden. 

At  a  small,  but  comfortable,  tavern  we  obtained  dinner. 
The  host,  a  perfect  specimen  of  sunburnt  health  and 
natural  politeness,  afterwards  showed  us  the  soda  spring  and 
the  smelting-houses.  The  mines  of  cinnabar  are  two  miles 
off,  near  the  top  of  the  mountain,  and  thiiteen  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  above  the  sea.  As  they  were  then  under 
litigation,  instituted  by  the  United  States  government,  all 
labor  had  been  suspended.  The  principal  adit  is  four 
thousand  feet  in  length — ^the  ore  being  found  in  detached 
masses.  The  average  annual  production  is  something  over 
a  million  of  pounds,  which  is  obtained  at  an  expense  of 
1280,000,  and  yields  a  profit  considerably  greater.    The 


NEW   PICTUKES   PROM    CALlPOElflA.  61 

process  of  smelting  is  very  simple,  the  mercury  being 
detached  from  the  cinnabar  by  heat,  and  afterwards  col- 
lected by  condensation.  Below  the  condensing  chambers 
are  huge  bowls,  some  of  which  were  still  partially  filled 
vnth  the  metallic  fluid.  It  was  a  curious  sensation  to  set 
your  foot  into  the  cold,  slippery  mass,  which,  as  if  disdaining 
such  treatment,  rolls  off,  leaving  your  boot  unsoiled.  Huge 
heaps  of  cinnabar,  of  a  rich  dark-vermilion  color,  lay  idly 
beside  the  furnaces.  Some  specimens,  wl;ich  I  ventured  to 
carry  away,  contained  seventy-five  per  cent,  of  quicksilver. 
Before  leaving  San  Jose,  I  visited  two  or  three  of  the 
pleasant  private  residences,  which,  with  their  gardens  and 
orchards,  adorn  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  It  seems  really 
incredible  that  ten  years  could  work  such  a  marvellous 
change.  Instead  of  a  bare,  open  plain,  there  were  grovei 
and  bowers — streets  lined  with  rows  of  trees,  and  houses 
hidden  in  foliage  and  blossoms.  Fig-trees,  laden  with 
their  second  crop  of  fruit,  encircled  the  fountain-basins; 
rustic  summer-houses,  overgrown  with  fuchsia,  passion- 
flower, and  the  Australian  pea,  rose  out  of  thickets  of 
acacia,  laurel,  and  the  African  tamarack,  with  its  thin, 
thready  foliage ;  and  with  the  simple  protection  of  glass, 
the  orange  and  banana  flourished  as  in  the  Tropics.  A 
cluster  of  cottonwoods,  planted  eight  years  ago,  were 
already  fifty  feet  high,  with  trunks  fifteen  inches  in  diame- 
ter I  Here,  old  proverbs  fail.  A  man  does  not  plant  an 
orchard,  that  his  grandchildren  may  have  fruit,  or  a  tree, 
that  his  sons  may  sit  beneath  its  shade  :  if  he  can  count  ou 
five  more  years  of  life  for  himself  he  does  these  things  fiw 
his  own  sake. 


f2  AT  HOME  AND   ABROAD 

Now,  I  ask,  where  Nature  does  so  much,  should  we  not 
expect  proportionably  more  from  Man  f  The  Califomiana 
have  labored  well,  it  is  true,  but  not  so  much  as  they  might 
have  done.  I  am  not  going  to  flatter  them  with  anmingled 
praise.  Coming  from  such  a  stock,  carrying  the  habits, 
tastes,  and  ideas  of  the  older  States  with  them,  Ihey  could 
not  have  accomplished  less,  without  exhibiting  a  deteriora- 
tion in  character.  The  material  progress  of  the  State  is 
not  so  much  to  be  wondered  at,  when  we  consider  that 
every  improvement  either  paya^  or  is  expected  to  pa} . 
There  are  fine  roads  constructed  at  great  expense,  all 
through  the  mining  districts — ^but  ask  the  teamsters  how 
much  toll  they  pay.  There  are  good  bridges  everywhere 
— ^your  purse  acknowledges  the  fact,  as  well  as  your  eyes. 
But  there  is,  as  yet,  no  thorough  geological  survey  of  the 
State:  the  Common  School  system  is  fer  less  generally 
established  than  it  should  be :  and  the  population  are  too 
bent  upon  money-making  to  insist  on  the  proper  adminis- 
tration of  the  laws,  which,  except  in  San  Francisco,  are  as 
loosely  and  carelessly  regarded  as  in — New  York  City. 
The  energy  of  Selfishness  has  worked  wonders — ^but  it  takes 
something  more  to  make  a  State  great,  wise,  and  happy. 

We  detei-mined  to  return  to  San  Francisco  up  the  east 
ern  shore,  through  Alameda  County,  thus  making  the 
circuit  of  the  bay.  The  distance  to  San  Antonio  near 
Oakland,  is  about  forty  miles ;  the  fare,  if  you  take  a  team 
at  a  livery-stable,  is  twenty-five  dollars — by  the  stage,  it  is 
one  dollar.  The  difference  would  buy  an  acre  of  land :  so 
we  took  the  stage.  To  avoid  the  dust,  as  well  as  the 
rough  crowd  of  French  laborers.  Chinamen,  and  Pikea 


NEW   PICIURKS   FUOM   CALIFORJiaA.  6S 

inside,  my  wife  and  I  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  Concord 
coach,  and  established  ourselves  behind  the  drivei.  The 
morning  was  overcast  and  raw :  the  mountains  were  drab 
instead  of  golden,  and  the  bay  indigo,  instead  of  purple. 
To  conciliate  the  driver,  I  presented  him  with  a  cigar, 
accompanied  with  a  remark.  He  had  a  full,  handsome 
face,  a  military  moustache,  and  a  rough  courtesy  in  his 
manners,  emphasized  with  profane  words.  I  should  never 
have  suspected  him  of  being  a  "Pike,"  if  he  had  not 
admitted  it.  He  had  been  in  the  country  nine  years ; 
weighed  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven  pounds  when  he 
came  ;  now  weighed  one  hundred  and  ninety ;  used  to  be 
sick  all  the  time  at  home ;  had  the  shakes — had  'em  had ; 
never  had  'em  now ;  was  afraid  to  go  home,  for  fear  he 
should  git  'em  again.  Knowed  all  about  horses ;  druv  'era 
so's  to  go  fast,  and  so's  not  to  hurt  'em   nuther.     Some 

drivers  upsot  the  stage,  goin'  over  side-hills ;  if 

he  did ;  passengers  might  swear  'cause  he  went  slow ;  he 
knowed  what  he  was  about — he  did.  All  which  latter 
statements  proved  to  be  perfectly  true.  He  was  an  honest, 
careful,  skilful  fellow ;  and  we  enjoyed  the  journey  all  the 
more,  from  our  confidence  in  him. 

For  some  ten  miles  our  road  led  over  the  level  floor  of 
the  valley.  The  land  here  appeared  to  be  tolerably  well 
divided  into  farms,  the  fields  fenced  with  redwood,  regard- 
less of  expense,  and  the  most  superb  orchards  and  vine- 
yards springing  up  everywhere.  I  was  glad  to  see  that 
the  fences  were  all  substantial  post-and-rail — ^none  of  those 
hideous  "  worm-fences"  which  are  so  common  in  the  Middle 
»nd  Western  States.    Redwood  timber  has  a  great  dura- 


84  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

bilily  in  a  moist  soil,  though  it  is  liable  to  dry  rot  els^ 
where.  Col.  Fremont  saw  a  redwood  post  at  the  Mission 
of  Dolores,  which  had  been  in  the  ground  seventy-five 
years,  and  had  only  rotted  to  the  depth  of  half  an  inch. 
Nearly  all  the  frame  houses  are  built  of  this  timber,  and  1 
never  saw  without  pain  its  rich,  beautiful  natural  color — 
intermediate  between  that  of  mahogany  and  black  walnut 
— hidden  under  a  coat  of  paint.  If  it  could  be  preserved  by 
oil,  or  a  transparent  varnish,  nothing  could  be  more  elegant. 

We  were  obliged  to  stop  at  Warm  Spring  (which  lies 
oflf  the  road)  on  account  of  the  mail.  As  we  slowly 
climbed  the  glen,  the  national  flag,  flying  from  a  flag-staff 
which  towered  above  a  clump  of  sycamores  and  live-oaks, 
announced  the  site  of  the  hotel.  Here  was  truly  a  pleas- 
ant retreat.  A  two-story  frame  building,  with  a  shady 
veranda,  opening  upon  a  garden  of  flowers,  in  the  midst 
of  which  the  misty  jet  of  a  fountain  fluttered  in  the  wind, 
vineyards  in  the  rear,  and  the  lofty  mountain  over  all. 
There  must  be  leisure  already  in  this  new  world  of  work, 
when  such  places  exist. 

Three  miles  further,  up  and  down,  crossing  the  bases  of 
the  hills,  brought  us  to  the  Mission  of  San  Jose,  I  found 
the  old  Mission  intact,  but  a  thriving  village  had  sprung 
up  around  it.  Its  former  peaceful  seclusion  has  gone  for 
ever :  a  few  natives,  with  their  sarapes  and  jingling  spurs, 
lounge  in  the  tiled  corridors ;  while,  in  bar-rooms  opposite, 
the  new  owners  of  the  land  drink  bad  liquors  and  chew 
abominable  tobacco.  The  old  garden  on  the  hill  has  passed 
into  the  hands  of  speculators,  and  its  wealth  of  figs,  pears, 
and  melons  is  now  shipped  to  San  Francisco. 


NEW    PICTUKES    FBOM    CALLFOKNIA.  6S 

Here  I  left  my  trail  of  1849,  which  turned  eastward^ 

over  the  mountains,  while  our  road  kept  along  their  base, 

northward.     As   the   sun   came   out,   the  huge  stacks  of 

heaves,  in  the  centre  of  the  immense  wheat-fields,  flashed 

ike  perfect  gold.    I  have  never  seen  grain  so  clean,  so 

rare  and  brilliant  in  color.     If  the  sheaves  had  been  washed 

with  soap-suds  and  then  varnished,  they  could  not   have 

been  more  resplendent.    The  eastern  shore  of  the  bay  ia 

certainly  more  fertile  than  the  western,  and  richer  in  arable 

land,  though  it  has  less  timber  and  less  landscape  beauty. 

The  land  appears  to  be  all  claimed  (generally  in  despite  of 

the  original  proprietors)  and  nearly  all  settled. 

We  now  saw  the  dark  line  of  the  Encinal,  in  front,  and 
sped  onward  through  clouds  of  black  dust  to  San  Antonio, 
which  we  reached  at  noon.  An  old  friend  was  in  waiting, 
to  convey  us  to  his  home  in  the  village  of  Alameda,  two 
miles  distant.  We  here  saw  more  of  the  wonders  of 
horticulture — ^but  I  am  really  tired  of  repeating  statements 
BO  difficult  of  belief,  and  will  desist.  We  spent  the  after- 
noon under  his  live-oaks,  bathed  in  the  aroma  of  giant 
pears  and  nectarines,  and  in  the  evening  returned  to  San 
Francisco. 


8. A   JOUBNBY   TO  THB   GeYSBBS. 

A  WEEK  later,  we  left  San  Francisco  in  a  little  steamei 
for  Petaluraa.  I  had  made  arrangements  to  lecture  there 
on  Saturday  evening,  and  in  Napa  City  on  Monday  eve 
ning ;  and  determined  to  accomplish  a  visit  to  the  Geysem 


68  AX  houb:  and  Ibboai). 

in  the  intervening  time,  although  most  of  ray  friends  pro 
nounced  the  thing  impossible.  Yet,  at  the  same  time, 
they  all  said :  "  You  must  not  think  of  leaving  Californit 
without  seeing  the  Geysers" — ^those  who  had  never  been 
there  being,  as  usual,  most  earnest  in  their  recommenda 
tions.  It  was  all  new  ground  to  me,  as  I  had  seen  litei-allj 
nothing  of  the  north  side  of  the  bay  during  my  first  visit. 

Petaluma  is  the  westernmost  of  three  valleys  which, 
divided  by  parallel  spurs  of  the  Coast  Range,  open  upon 
the  north  side  of  San  Pablo  Bay.  It  communicates,  with 
scarce  an  intervening  "divide,"  with  the  rich  and  s|>a- 
cious  valley  of  Russian  River — ^a  stream  which  enters  the 
Pacific  at  Bodega,  some  twenty  miles  north  of  the  Golden 
Gate,  where  the  Russians  once  made  a  settlement.  It  ia 
thus,  virtually,  the  outlet  of  this  valley  to  the  Bay  of  San 
Francisco ;  and  the  town  of  Petaluma,  at  the  head  of 
navigation,  bids  fair  to  become  a  place  of  some  importance. 
In  1849,  the  valley  was  an  Indian  ranche,  belonging  to  one 
of  the  brothers  Vallejo ;  and  the  adobe  fort,  built  for 
protection  against  the  native  tribes,  is  still  standing.  At 
present,  there  is  a  daily  line  of  steamers  thither — a  fact 
which  shows  that  the  progress  of  Cahfornia  is  not  restricted 
to  the  gold-bearing  regions. 

We  passed  close  under  the  steep  mountain-sides  ol 
Angel  Island.  At  the  base,  there  are  quarries  of  very 
tolerable  building-stone,  which  are  extensively  worked 
Across  a  narrow  strait  lay  Sousolito,  overhung  by  dark 
mountains.  Here  there  is  a  little  settlement,  whence  ie 
brought  the  best  supply  of  drinking-water  for  San  Fran 
dsco.    An  hour  more  brought  us  to  Point  San  (^uentin 


NEW  PICTURES  FBOM  CALIFORNIA.  87 

where  the  State  prison  is  located.  In  this  institution^ 
terms  of  imprisonment  ai-e  shortened  by  wholesale,  with- 
out the  exercise  of  executive  clemency.  When  the 
inmates  have  enjoyed  a  satisfactory  period  of  rest  and 
seclusion,  they  join  in  companies,  and  fillibuster  their  way 
out.  During  my  sojourn  in  California,  forty  or  fifty  of 
them  took  possession  of  a  sloop,  and  were  only  prevented 
from  escaping,  by  a  discharge  of  grape-shot,  which  killed 
several. 

As  we  approached  Black  Point,  at  the  mouth  of  Peta- 
luma  Creek,  the  water  of  the  bay  became  very  shallow  and 
muddy,  and  our  course  changed  from  a  right  line  into  a 
tortuous  following  of  the  narrow  channel.  The  mouth  of 
the  valley  is  not  more  than  two  miles  wide  ;  and  the  creek, 
vhich  is  a  mere  tide-water  slough,  winds  its  labyrinthine 
way  through  an  expanse  of  reedy  marshes.  To  the  west- 
ward, towers  a  noble  mountain-peak,  with  groves  of  live- 
oak  mottling  its  golden  sides ;  while  on  the  east  a  lower 
range  of  tawny  hills  divides  the  valley  from  that  of  Sonoma. 

The  windings  of  the  creek  were  really  bewildering — more 
than  doubling  the  distance.  But  there  is  already  enterprise 
enough  to  straighten  the  channel.  Gangs  of  men  are  at 
work,  cutting  across  the  bends,  and  in  the  course  of  time, 
the  whole  aspect  of  the  valley  will  be  changed.  We  left 
the  steamer  at  a  place  called  The  Haystack,  about  two 
miles  from  Petaluma.  Time  is  gained  by  taking  an  omnibus 
here,  and  avoiding  the  remaining  curves  of  the  stream. 
The  town,  built  on  the  southern  slope  of  a  low  hill,  makeb 
a  very  cheerftil  impression.  The  main  street,  built  up  con- 
tiuuously  for  near  half  a  mile,  slowly  climbs  the  hill — ^itf 


68  AT  HOMB  AND  ABBOAB. 

uppei  portion  overlooking  the  blocks  of  neat  cottages  and 
gardens  in  the  rear.  The  houses,  of  course,  are  mostly 
frame ;  but  a  beautiful  dark-blue  lime-stone  is  rapidly  coming 
into  use.  The  place  already  contains  2,500  inhabitants,  and 
the  ail  of  business  and  prosperity  which  it  wears  is  quit<> 
triking. 

After  collecting  all  possible  information  concerning  the 
journey  to  the  Geysers,  I  determined  to  go  on  the  sam«> 
night  to  Santa  Rosa,  sixteen  miles  ftirther  up  the  valley. 
A  considerate  friend  sent  a  note  by  the  evening  stage  to 
Mr.  Dickinson,  a  landlord  in  Healdsburg  (in  Russian  River 
Valley),  engaging  horses  for  the  mountains.  I  then  sought 
and  found  a  reasonable  livery-stable,  the  proprietor  of 
which  funiished  me  with  a  two-horse  buggy — to  be  left  at 
Napa  City,  twenty-four  miles  distant,  on  the  third  day — for 
$20.  The  vehicle  was  strong,  the  horses  admirable,  and  I 
was  to  be  our  own  driver  and  guide.  I  had  intended  em- 
ploying a  man  to  act  in  the  latter  capacity,  until  I  was  told, 
"  You  can  never  find  the  way  alone." 

After  my  evening  duty  was  performed,  and  the  moon 
had  risen,  we  took  our  seats  in  the  buggy,  well-muffled 
against  the  cold  night-wind.  I  was  especially  warned 
against  this  midnight  journey  to  Santa  Rosa.  People  said: 
"  We,  who  have  been  over  the  road,  lose  the  way  in  going 
by  daylight.  How  can  you  find  it  by  night  ?"  But  I  have 
ny  plan  of  action  in  such  cases.  I  ask  half  a  dozen  men  of 
very  different  degrees  of  intelligence,  separately,  to  give 
me  instructions.  No  matter  how  much  they  may  differ, 
there  are  always  certain  landmarks  which  coincide:  hold 
on  to  these,  and  let  the  rest  go  I    Thus,  after  much  ques 


NEW  PICT  USES  FBOM  CALLFOBNIA.  60 

tiouing,  I  found  out  that  I  must  keep  a  certain  main  road 
until  I  had  passed  the  Magnolia  Tavern  ;  then  turn  to  the 
right  around  the  garden-fence ;  then  cross  a  gully ;  then 
not  take  a  trail  to  the  right ;  then  drive  over  a  wide,  fence- 
less plain ;  then  take  the  right  hand,  and  mount  a  hill :  and, 
after  I  had  struck  the  main  fenced  road,  keep  it  to  Santa 
Rosa. 

Accompanied  with  good  wishes  and  misgivings,  we  left 
the  Washington  Hotel,  in  Petaluma.  The  yellow  landscape 
shone  with  a  ghastly  glare  in  the  moonlight;  and  the 
parched  soil  and  dust  of  the  road  were  so  nearly  the  same 
color,  that  I  was  only  able  to  distinguish  the  highway  by 
the  sound  of  the  wheels.  I  found  the  Magnolia,  rightly 
enough ;  turned  around  the  garden,  crossed  the  gully,  and 
struck  out  boldly  over  the  dim  plain.  The  cold  wind,  still 
raw  from  the  Pacific,  blew  in  our  faces,  and  cheered  us 
with  the  balsam  of  the  tar-weed.  No  sound  of  coyote  or 
gray-wolf  disturbed  the  night.  Through  a  land  of  ghostly 
silence  the  horses  trotted  steadily  onward.  Up  the  pro- 
raised  hill ;  through  groves  of  wizard  oaks ;  past  the  dark 
shanties  of  settlers :  with  wheels  rattling  on  gravel  or  muf- 
fled in  dust ;  crossing  the  insteps  of  hills,  and  then  into  an 
apparently  boundless  plain — so  we  dashed  imtil  midnight, 
when  we  reached  a  large  stream.  Thus  far  we  had  not  seen 
a  living  soul;  but  now,  a  "solitary  horseman"  came  up 
behind  us. 

"Is  this  the  road  to  Santa  Rosa?"  I  asked. 

*'  You  are  in  Santa  Rosa  now,''  was  the  reply. 

Once  over  the  stream,  there  lay  the  village,  which  thi 
9aks  and  sycamores  had  concealed  from  us. 


70  AT   HOME  AOT)  ABROAD. 

I  thundered  vigorously  on  the  door  of  a  tavern ;  but  it 
was  long  before  there  was  any  answering  sound.  Finally, 
the  door  was  opened  by  a  barefooted  man,  in  shirt  ana 
trowsers — not  growling,  as  I  anticipated,  but  exc5es8ively 
polite  and  obliging.  Passing  through  a  parlor,  with  glaring 
ingrain  carpet  and  hair  sofa,  he  ushered  us  into  a  bedroom, 
boimded  on  one  side  by  a  kitchen,  and  on  the  other  by  a 
closet,  where  servant-girls  slept.  It  had  evidently  been  his 
own  room ;  for  the  bed  was  still  warm,  and  no  imagination 
could  endow  the  limp  cotton  sheets  with  freshness.  The 
room  was  disgustingly  dirty — old  clothes,  indescribable 
towels  and  combs  being  scattered  in  the  corners.  Fortu- 
nately, our  fatigue  was  great,  and  the  five  hours'  sleep 
(which  was  all  we  could  take)  cut  short  the  inevitable 
loathing. 

Our  lodging  cost  two  dollare;  our  horses  the  same. 
Soon  after  six  o*clock,  we  were  imder  way  again — intend- 
ing to  take  breakfast  at  Healdsburg,  sixteen  miles  further. 
As  we  got  out  of  the  shabby  little  village  of  Santa  Rosa,  I 
perceived  that  we  were  already  in  Russian  River  Valley. 
Its  glorious  alluvial  level,  sprinkled  with  groves  of  noble 
trees,  extended  far  and  wide  before  us — ^bounded,  on  the 
west,  by  the  blue  mountains  of  the  coast.  The  greater  part 
of  the  land  was  evidently  claimed,  and  the  series  of  fenced 
and  cultivated  fields  on  either  side  of  the  road  was  almost 
uninterrupted.  It  was  melancholy  to  see  how  wantonly  the 
most  beautiful  trees  in  the  world  had  been  destroyed ;  for 
the  world  has  never  seen  such  oaks  as  grow  in  Russian 
River  Valley.  The  fields  of  girdled  and  blackened  skeletons 
■eemed  doubly  hideous  by  contrast  with  the  glory  of  th« 


NEW    PICTUBES   FKOM   CAUFOKNIA.  71 

TOTviving  trees.  Water  seems  to  be  more  abundauo  in  thia 
valley  than  in  that  of  San  Jose :  the  picturesque  windutiU  is 
not  a  feature  in  the  landscape.  The  settlerss  are  mostly 
Pikes ;  but  one  man,  of  whom  I  asked  the  way,  rathei 
puzzled  me,  at  first.  His  shaggy  brown  hair,  tixt  nose,  and 
Calmuck  nostrils,  led  me  to  suspect  that  he  might  be  a 
Russian  remnant  of  the  old  settlement  of  Bodega.  After 
trying  Spanish  and  German  without  success,  I  was  vainly 
straining  after  a  Russian  phrase,  when  he  suddenly  addressed 
me  in  French.  His  patois,  however,  was  harsh  and  barba- 
rous, and  I  set  him  down  for  a  Basque  or  a  Breton. 

The  valley  gradually  naiTOwed  to  a  breadth  of  five  or  six 
miles ;  the  mountains  became  more  densely  wooded ;  impe- 
rial sycamores  lifted  their  white  arms  over  the  heads  of  th» 
oaks ;  and  tall,  dark  redwoods  towered  like  giants  alon^, 
the  slopes  and  summits.  The  landscapes  were  of  ravishing 
beauty — a  beauty  not  purchased  at  the  expense  of  any 
material  advantage ;  for  nothing  could  exceed  the  fertility 
of  the  soil.  Indian  corn,  which  thiives  but  moderately 
elsewhere  in  California,  here  rivalled  the  finest  fields  of  the 
West.  The  fields  of  wild  oats  mocked  the  results  of  arti 
ficial  culture ;  and  the  California  boast,  of  making  walking- 
canes  of  the  stalks,  seemed  to  be  scarcely  exaggerated. 
Then,  as  we  approached  Russian  River,  what  a  bowery 
luxuriance  of  sycamores,  bay  trees,  shrubbery,  and  climbing 
vines!  What  wonderful  vistas  of  foliage,  stan-y  flowere^ 
and  pebbly  reaches,  mirrored  in  the  sparkling  water !  Ik 
was  a  kindred  picture  to  that  of  the  Valley  of  the  Alpheufl, 
in  Greece,  but  far  richer  in  coloring. 

Such  scenery  was  not  to  be  enjoyed  without  payment 


72  AT   HOME   ANT)   ABROAD. 

There  was  beauty  around,  but  there  was  dust  below.  Aftei 
crossing  the  river,  our  wheels  sank  into  a  foot  of  dry,  black 
powder,  which  spun  off  tlie  tires  in  terrific  clcuds.  It  wa? 
blinding,  choking,  annihilating ;  and  the  only  way  to  escape 
it  was,  to  drive  with  such  rapidity  that  you  were  past 
before  it  reached  the  level  of  your  head.  But  under  the 
dust  were  invisible  ruts  and  holes;  and  the  faster  you 
drove,  the  more  liable  you  were  to  snap  some  bolt  or 
spring,  by  a  sudden  wrench.  Less  than  a  mile  of  such  tra- 
vel, however,  brought  us  to  the  outskirts  of  Healdsburg. 
This  town — which  is  only  two  years  old,  and  numbers  six 
or  eight  hundred  inhabitants — ^is  built  in  a  forest  of  fir  and 
pine  trees.  The  houses  seem  to  spring  up  faster  than  the 
streets  can  be  laid  out,  with  the  exception  of  an  open 
square  in  the  centre — a  sort  of  public  trading-ground  and 
forum,  such  as  you  see  in  the  Sclavonic  villages  of  Eastern 
Europe.  Wild  and  backwoodsy  as  the  place  appeared,  it 
was  to  us  the  welcome  herald  of  breakfast. 

The  note  dispatched  fi-om  Petaluma  had  had  the  desired 
effect.  Mr.  Dickinson  had  gone  on  to  Ray's  tavern,  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountains,  with  the  saddle-horses;  and  hia 
partner  soon  supplied  us  with  an  excellent  meal.  The  road 
to  Ray's  was  described  as  being  rough,  and  hard  to  find ; 
but  as  the  distance  was  only  eight  or  nine  miles,  and  my 
instructions  were  intelligibly  given,  I  determined  to  take 
no  guide.  There  are  settlements  along  Russian  River, 
almost  to  its  source — some  seventy  or  eighty  miles  above 
Healdsburg ;  and  still  beyond  the  valley,  as  you  go  north. 
ward,  extends  a  succession  of  others,  lying  within  the  arms 
»f  the  Coast  Range,  as  far  as  Trinj\y  River.    They  are  said 


Nirw  PICTUEES    FBOM   CALIFOENIA.  78 

%o  be  wonderfully  fertile  and  beautiful,  and  those  which  arc 
not  appropriated  as  Indian  resel'vations,  are  rapidly  filling 
ap  with  settlers.  As  there  are  no  good  harbors  on  the 
e^ast  between  Bodega  and  Humboldt,  much  of  the  inter- 
course between  this  region  and  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco 
must  be  carried  on  by  the  way  of  Petaluma  and  the  Rus 
L'ian  River,  The  sudden  rise  of  Healdsburg  is  thus  ao- 
o'^unted  for. 

Resuming  our  joui'ney,  we  travelled  for  four  or  five  miles 
through  scenery  of  the  most  singular  beauty.  To  me,  it 
was  an  altogether  new  variety  of  landscape.  Even  in 
California,  where  Nature  presents  so  many  phases,  there  is 
nothing  like  it  elsewhere.  Fancy  a  country  composed  of 
mounds  from  one  to  five  hundred  feet  in  height,  arranged 
\n  every  possible  style  of  grouping,  or  piled  against  and 
upon  each  other,  yet  always  rounded  off  with  the  most 
wonderful  smoothness  and  grace — ^not  a  line  but  curves  as 
<»xqui8ite!y  as  the  loins  of  the  antique  Venus — covered  with 
1  shorJ,,  even  sward  of  golden  grass,  and  studded  with  trees 
— singly,  in  clumps,  or  in  groves — which  surpass,  in  artistic 
perfection  of  form,  all  other  trees  that  grow!  "This,"  said 
I,  "is  certainly  the  last-created  portion  of  our  planet. 
Here  the  Divine  Architect  has  lingered  over  His  work  with 
reluctant  fondness,  giving  it  the  final  caressing  touches 
with  which  He  pronounced  it  good." 

Indeed,  our  further  journey  seemed  to  be  through  some 
province  of  dream-land.  As  the  valley  opened  again,  and 
our  course  turned  eastward  toward  the  group  of  lofty 
mountains  in  which  Pluton  River  lies  hidden,  visions  of 
violet  peaks  shimmered  afar,  through  the   perfect  trees 


74  AT   HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

Hentllands  crowned  with  colossal  redwood  were  tkrubt 
forward  from  the  ranges  on  either  hand,  embaying  between 
them  the  loveliest  glens.  The  day  w^as  cloudless,  warai, 
and  calm,  with  barely  enough  or  breeze  to  shake  the 
voluptuous  spice  from  the  glossy  bay-leaves.  After  cross- 
ing Russian  River  a  second  time — here  a  broad  bed  of  dr) 
IHjbbles — we  found  fields  and  farm-douses.  The  road  was 
continually  crossed  by  deep  arroyos,  in  and  out  of  which 
3nr  horses  plunged  with  remarkable  dexterity.  The  smaller 
gullies  were  roughly  bridged  with  loose  logs,  covered  with 
brush.  We  were  evidently  approaching  the  confines  of 
civilization. 

I  missed  the  road  but  once,  and  then  a  ca,rt-track  through 
the  fields  soon  brought  me  back  again.  At  noon,  precisely, 
we  reached  Ray's — a  little  shanty  in  a  valley  at  the  foot 
of  Geyser  Peak.  Thence  we  were  to  proceed  on  horse- 
back to  the  region  of  wonders. 

Ray's  Tavern  (or  stable)  is  only  twelve  miles  from  the 
Geysers;  yet  we  should  find  these  miles,  we  were  told, 
longer  than  the  forty  we  had  travelled.  Some  of  our 
friends  had  given  us  threatening  pictures  of  the  rocks, 
precipices,  and  mountain-heightcs  to  be  overcome.  It  was 
fortunate  that  the  horses  had  been  ordered  in  advance ;  for 
Ray's  is  a  lonely  place,  and  we  might  otherwise  have  been 
inconveniently  delayed.  Mr.  Dickinson  and  an  Indian  boy 
were  the  only  inhabitants.  There  was  a  bar,  with  bottles, 
a  piece  of  cheese,  and  a  box  of  soda-crackers,  in  one  room, 
and  a  cot  in  the  other. 

Presently,  our  horses  were  led  up  to  the  door.  Mintj 
was  a  dilapidated  mustang,  furnished  with  one  of  those 


AEW  PICTURES  FBOM  CALITOBNIA.  75 

Mexican  saddles  which  are  so  easy  in  the  seat  and  so  un- 
easy in  the  stirrups  (on  mountain  roads) ;  while  my  wife 
received  a  gray  mare,  recommended  as  an  admirable  crea- 
tm*e ;  and  so  she  was — with  the  exception  of  a  blind  eye,  a 
sore  back,  and  a  habit  of  stumbling.  "  You  can't  miss  the 
trail,"  said  Mr.  Dickinson — which,  in  fact,  we  didn't. 
Starting  oflf,  merrily,  alone,  up  a  little  canon  behind  the 
tavern,  with  the  noonday  sun  beating  down  fiercely  upon 
our  backs,  it  was  not  long  before  we  breathed  a  purer  air  than 
that  of  the  valley,  and  received  a  fresher  inspiration  from  the 
richl}  -tinted  panorama  which  gradually  unfolded  before  us. 
The  high,  conical  peak,  behind  which  lay  the  Geysers, 
and  the  lower  slopes  of  which  we  were  ascending,  was 
called  Monte  de  las  Putas,  by  the  Spaniards ;  but  is  now, 
fortunately,  likely  to  lose  that  indecent  appellation,  and 
return  to  fespectability,  as  Geyser  Peak.  Its  summit  is 
3,800  feet  above  the  sea,  and  distinctly  visible  from  the 
Bay  of  San  Francisco.  Eastward,  across  an  intervening 
valley,  rises  the  blue  bulk  of  Mount  St.  Helene,  5,000  feet 
high ;  while,  to  the  West  and  South,  the  valley  of  Russian 
River,  which  here  makes  an  abrupt  curve,  spread  wide 
below  us — a  dazzling  picture  of  warmth,  life,  and  beauty, 
covered  as  with  a  misty  violet-bloom.  Our  road  was 
shaded  with  pines  and  oaks,  with  an  undergrowth  of  buck- 
eye and  manzanita.  The  splendid  forms  of  the  trees  were 
projected  with  indescribable  effect  against  the  yellow  har- 
dest which  mantled  the  mountain-sides.  The  madrono^ 
elsewhere  a  shrub,  here  becomes  a  magnificent  tree,  con- 
stantly charming  the  eye  with  its  trnnk  of  bronze,  its 
branches  of  copper,  and  its  leaves  of  supernatural  green. 


76  AT    [lOME    AND    ABROAD. 

Ascending  gradually  for  a  raile  and  a  half,  we  reached 
the  top  of  the  first  terrace  or  abutment  of  the  mountain- 
chain.  Here  stood  a  shanty,  near  a  spring  which  suddenly 
oozed  out  of  the  scorched  soil.  Half-a-dozen  used-up  horsei 
were  trying  to  get  a  drink,  and  a  hard  of  at  least  four  hun- 
dred sheep  was  gathered  together  under  the  immense 
spreading  boughs  of  some  evergreen  oaks ;  but  settlers  and 
shepherds  were  absent.  I  rode  up  to  the  window ;  but  a 
curtain  of  blue  calico,  placed  there  to  exclude  the  sun  and 
flies,  baffled  my  curiosity. 

We  now  followed  the  top  of  the  ridge  for  three  or  four 
miles,  by  a  broad  and  beautiful  trail  marked  with  cart- 
wheels. A  pleasant  breeze  blew  from  the  opposite  height, 
and  the  clumps  of  giant  madronos  and  pines  shielded  us 
from  the  sun.  As  we  cantered  lightly  along,  our  eyes 
rested  continually  on  the  wonderful  valley  below.  The 
landscape,  colossal  in  its  forms,  seemed  to  lie  motion- 
less, leagues  deep,  at  the  bottom  of  an  ocean  of  blue  air. 
The  atmosphere,  transparent  as  ever,  was  palpable  as  glass, 
from  its  depth  of  color.  No  object  lost  its  distinctness,  but 
became  part  of  an  unattainable,  though  not  unreal  world. 
The  same  feeling  was  excited,  as  when,  leaning  over  a  boat 
in  some  crystal  cove  of  the  tropical  sea,  I  have  watched  the 
dells  and  valleys  of  the  coral  forests  below.  Across  a  deep 
hollow  on  our  right,  splendidly  robed  in  forests,  rose  Gey« 
ser  Peak,  covered  to  the  summit  with  purple  chamisal.  I 
am  afraid  to  describe  the  eifect  of  this  scenery.  It  was  a 
beauty  so  exquisite,  a  harmony  so  complete,  as  to  take  away 
the  effect  of  reality,  and  our  enjoyment  was  of  that  suprem* 
character  which  approaches  the  sense  of  pain. 


NSW    PICTURES    FBOM    CAUFORNIA,  77 

Filially  we  descended  into  the  nollow,  which  narrowed 
to  an  abiujit  gorge,  losing  itself  between  steep  mountain 
walls,  Masses  of  black  volcanic  rock,  among  which  grew 
Titanic  pines,  gave  the  place  a  wild,  savage  air,  but  the 
bottom  of  the  gorge  was  a  bower  of  beauty.  An  imp^ 
uous  stream  of  crystal  water  plunged  down  it,  overhung 
by  a  wilderness  of  maples,  plane-trees,  and  deciduous  oaks. 
As  we  were  about  to  cross,  a  wild  figure  on  horseback 
dashed  out  of  the  thicket.  It  was  a  Pike  boy  of  fourteen, 
on  a  Mexican  saddle,  with  calzoneros,  leather-gaiters,  and 
a  lasso  in  his  hand.  "  Have  you  seen  a  stray  cow  ?"  he 
shouted.  We  had  been  looking  at  something  else  than 
cows.  "  'Cause,"  he  added,  "  one  of  ourn's  missin'.  You*re 
goin'  to  the  springs,  I  reckon  ?  Well,  I'm  goin's  fur's  the 
Surveyoi's  Camp."  He  had  been  four  years  in  the  country. 
His  father  lived  in  the  valley,  but  sent  cattle  upon  the  hills 
to  pasture.  "  Lost  cattle  reg'lar.  Grizzlies  eat  'em  some- 
times— still,  it  paid.  What  was  them  trees  ? — matheroons 
(madronos).''  "Like  California?"  "Yes.  Didn't  want 
to  go  back,  nohow.  Didn't  want  a  cigar — chawed  /"  as  a 
dexterous  sqiiirt  of  brown  juice  over  his  horse's  head  proved. 
Such  was  the  information  elicited  by  my  questioning. 

Meanwhile  we  had  been  gradually  regaining  the  summit 
of  the  ridge  beyond  the  gorge  ;  riding  under  broad-leaved 
oaks,  which  reminded  me  of  the  Erymanthean  forests.  Pre- 
sently there  opened  the  most  unexpected  picture.  A  cir 
cular  meadow  of  green  turf,  the  peak  on  our  right,  golden 
and  purple  to  its  summit ;  an  oak-knoll  on  the  left,  dotted 
with  white  tents,  with  picketed  horses,  men  lying  in  the 
•hade,  and  all  the  other  picturesque  accessories  of  a  camp 


78  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

It  was  the  head-quarters  of  Capt.  Davidson,  of  the  Coast 
Survey — evidently  a  man  of  taste  as  well  as  science.  The 
repose  was  tempting,  especially  to  my  companion,  to  whom 
rough  mountain  travel  was  a  new  thing ;  but  we  had  no 
time  to  lose,  for  there  were  the  Geysers  before  us,  and  a 
journey  of  sixty  miles  on  the  morrow.  A  made  trail, 
engineered  up  the  steep  by  easy  windings,  led  us  to  a 
height  of  3,200  feet  above  the  sea  ;  whence  the  unknown 
realms  behind  Geyser  Peak  became  visible,  and  we  turned 
our  backs  on  Russian  River  Valley. 

It  was  a  wild  region  upon  which  we  now  entered.  Sheer 
down  slid  the  huge  mountain-sides,  to  depths  unknown,  for 
they  were  concealed  by  the  thick-set  pillars  of  the  fir  and 
redwood.  Opposite  rose  heights  equally  abrupt ;  over  their 
almost  level  line,  the  blue  wall  of  a  chain  beyond,  and  scat- 
tered peaks  in  the  dimmest  distance.  The  intervening 
gorges  ran  from  east  to  west,  but  that  immediately  below 
us  was  divided  by  a  narrow  partition-wall,  which  crossed  it 
transversely,  connecting  the  summits  of  the  two  chains. 
Over  this  wall  our  road  lay.  The  golden  tint  of  the  wild 
oats  was  gone  from  the  landscape.  The  mountains  were 
covered  to  the  summits  with  dense  masses  of  furze,  chami- 
sal,  laurel,  and  manzanita,  painting  them  with  gorgeous 
purples,  yellows,  browns,  and  greens.  For  the  hundredth 
time  I  exclaimed,  "  What  a  country  for  an  artist !" 

On  the  sharp  comb  of  the  transverse  connecting-wall  over 
which  we  rode,  there  was  barely  room  for  the  trail.  It  was 
originally  next  to  impassable,  but  several  thousand  dollars 
expended  in  cutting  chapparal,  blasting  rocks,  nnd  bridging 
ehasms,  have  made  it  secure  and  easy.    The  carcass  of  a 


NEW    PICTCKES   FROM   CALIFOBNIA.  79 

calf,  killed  by  a  grizzly  bear  a  few  days  before,  lay  beside 
the  path.  We  also  passed  a  tethered  mule,  with  a  glimpse 
of  somebody  asleep  under  a  rock ;  after  which,  the  silence 
and  solitude  was  complete. 

We  reached  the  opposite  ridge  with  feelings  of  relief— 
not  from  any  dangers  passed,  but  because  we  knew  that 
Pluton  River  must  lie  in  the  gorge  beyond,  and  we  were 
excessively  fatigued  and  hungry.  The  sky  between  the 
distant  peaks  became  so  clear  as  to  indicate  that  a  conside- 
rable depression  lay  below  it,  and  I  conjectured  (rightly,  as 
it  proved,)  that  this  must  be  Clear  Lake.  Looking  down 
into  the  gulf  below  us,  I  noticed  only  that  while  the  side 
upon  which  we  stood  was  covered  with  magnificent  forests, 
the  opposite  or  northern  steep  was  comparatively  bare,  and 
the  deep  gullies  which  seamed  it  showed  great  patches  of 
yellow  and  orange-colored  earth  near  the  bottom.  But  no 
sound  was  to  be  heard,  no  column  of  vapor  to  be  seen. 
Indeed,  the  bottom  of  the  gorge  was  invisible,  from  the 
steepness  of  its  sides. 

Straiglit  down  went  the  trail,  descending  a  thousand  feet 
in  the  distance  of  a  mile.  It  was  like  riding  down  the  roof 
of  a  Gothic  church.  The  horses  planted  themselves  on  their 
fore  feet,  and  in  some  places  slid,  rather  than  walked.  The 
jolts,  or  shocks,  with  which  they  continually  brought  up, 
jarred  us  in  every  joint.  Superb  as  was  the  forest  around, 
lovely  as  were  the  glimpses  into  the  wild  dells  on  either 
side,  we  scarcely  heeded  them,  but  looked  forward  at  evei-y 
turn  for  the  inn  which  was  to  bring  us  comfort.  At  last  we 
paw  the  river,  near  at  hand.  The  trail,  notched  along  the 
^de  of  its  precipitous  banks,  almost  overhung  it,  and  a  sin 


80  AT   HOMB  AND   ABBOAI). 

gle  slip  would  have  sent  horse  and  rider  into  its  bed.  Ha 
here  is  a  row  of  bathing  shanties.  A  thin  thread  Df  steam 
puffs  out  of  a  mound  of  sulphur-colored  earth,  opposite.  Is 
that  all?  was  my  first  dolorous  query — followed  by  the 
reflection :  if  there  were  nothing  here,  we  have  still  been 
a  thousand  times  repaid.  But — there  comes  the  hotel  at 
last! 

It  was  a  pleasant  frame  building  of  two  stories,  sur 
rounded  with  spacious  verandas.  Patriarchal  oaks  shaded 
the  knoll  on  which  it  stood,  and  the  hot  river  roared  over 
volcanic  rocks  below.  A  gentleman,  sitting  tilted  against 
a  tree,  quietly  scrutinized  us.  While  I  was  lifting  my  help- 
less companion  from  the  saddle,  an  Indian  ostler  took  the 
beasts,  and  an  elegant  lady  in  a  black-velvet  basque  and 
silk  skirt  came  forward  to  receive  us.  I  was  at  a  loss  how 
to  address  her,  until  the  unmistakable  brogue  and  manners 
betrayed  the  servant-gal.  She  conducted  us  to  the  baths, 
and  then  assumed  a  graceful  position  on  a  rock  until  we 
had  washed  away  the  aches  of  our  bones  in  the  liquid  sul- 
phur. A  pipe,  carried  from  a  spring  across  the  river,  sup- 
plies the  baths,  which  have  a  temperature  of  about  100 
degrees.  In  their  vicinity  is  a  cold  spring,  strongly  impreg- 
nated with  iron. 

The  bath,  a  lunch,  and  a  bottle  of  good  claret,  restored 
us  so  thoroughly,  that  my  wife  declared  her  ability  to  make 
the  tour  of  the  Geysers  at  once.  In  the  meantime,  Mr 
Godwin,  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel  and  the  adjacent  Pan- 
demonium, arrived  with  Capt.  Davidson,  who  had  been 
endeavoring  to  ascertain  the  temperature  of  the  steam 
The  former  was  kind  enough  to  be  our  guide,  and  we  se* 


KEW   PICTUEES   FEOM   CALIFORNIA.  8j 

out  immediately,  for  the  remaining  honr  and  a  half  of  day 
light  was  barely  sufficient  for  the  undertaking.  The  Gey 
sere  lie  in  a  steep  little  lateral  canon,  the  mouth  of  which 
opens  on  Pluton  river,  exactly  opposite  the  hotel.  The 
>est  way  to  visit  them  is,  to  enter  the  bottom  of  this  caiion; 
and  so  gradually  climb  to  the  top.  Many  persons,  ladie 
especially,  are  deterred  from  attempting  it,  but  there  is 
nothing  very  difficult  or  dangerous  in  the  feat.  The  air  of 
the  valley  is  strongly  flavored  with  sulphur,  but  beyond 
this  fact,  and  the  warmth  of  the  stream,  there  are  no  indi- 
cations of  the  phenomena  near  at  hand. 

Mr.  Godwin  first  showed  us  an  iron  spring,  in  a  rude 
natural  basin  among  the  rocks.  The  water  is  so  strongly 
ferruginous,  that  a  thick,  red  scum  gathers  on  the  top  of  it, 
and  the  stones  around  are  tinted  a  deep  crimson.  A  little 
further  there  is  an  alkaline  spring,  suiTounded  with  bub- 
bling jets  of  sulphur.  The  water  becomes  warmer  as  we 
climb,  the  air  more  stifling,  and  the  banks  of  the  ravine 
higher,  more  ragged  in  form,  and  more  glaringly  marked 
with  dashes  of  fiery  color.  Here  and  there  are  rocky 
chambers,  the  sides  of  which  are  incrusted  with  patches  of 
sulphur  crystals,  while  in  natural  pigeon-holes  are  deposits 
of  magnesia,  epsom  salts,  and  various  alkaline  mixtures. 
One  of  these  places  is  called  the  Devil's  Apothecary  Shop, 
Hot  sulphur  springs  become  more  frequent,  gushing  n\ 
wherever  a  little  vent-hole  can  be  forced  through  the  rocks 
The  ground  grows  warm  under  our  feet,  and  a  light  steam 
begins  to  arise  from  the  stream.  The  path  is  very  steep, 
slippery,  and  toilsome. 

After   passing   several   hot   springs,   impregnated    with 


82  AT  HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

epsom  salts  and  magnesia,  we  come,  finally,  to  the  region 
where  sulplmr  maintains  a  diabolical  pre-eminence.  The 
trees  which  shade  the  ravine  in  the  lower  part  of  its  coarse, 
now  disappear.  All  vegetation  is  blasted  by  the  mixture 
of  powerful  vapors.  The  ground  is  hot  under  your  feet: 
you  hear  the  bubbling  of  boiling  springs,  and  are  half 
choked  by  the  rank  steam  that  arises  from  them.  From 
bubbling,  the  springs  at  the  bases  of  the  rocks  gradually 
change  to  jetting,  in  quick,  regular  throbs,  yet — what  is 
most  singular  in  this  glen  of  wonders — no  two  of  them  pre- 
cisely alike.  Some  are  intermittently  weak  and  strong, 
like  a  revolving  light;  some  are  rapid  and  short,  others 
exhale  long,  fluttering  pants  or  sighs,  and  others  again 
have  a  double,  reciprocal  motion,  like  the  sistole  and  dia- 
stole of  the  heart.  In  one  you  fancy  you  detect  the  move- 
ment of  a  subterranean  piston-rod.  They  have  all  received 
fantastic  names,  suggested  by  their  mode  of  working. 

With  the  light  bubbling  and  sputtering  of  these  springs, 
and  the  dash  of  the  boiling  brook,  there  now  mingles  a 
deeper  sound.  Above  us  are  the  gates  of  the  great  cham- 
ber, whose  red,  burnt  walls  we  dimly  see  through  volumes 
of  whirling  steam — ^nothing  else  is  visible.  We  walk  in  a 
sticky  slush  of  sulphur,  which  bums  through  the  soles  of 
our  boots ;  we  gasp  for  breath  as  some  fiercer  whiff  drives 
across  our  faces.  A  horrible  mouth  yawns  in  the  black 
rock,  belching  forth  tremendous  volumes  of  sulphurous 
vapor.  Approaching  as  near  as  we  dare,  and  looking  in, 
we  see  the  black  waters  boiling  in  mad,  pitiless  fury,  foam* 
ing  around  the  sides  of  their  prison,  spirting  in  venomous 
froth  over  its  jagged  lips,  and  sending  forth  a  hoarse,  hiss 


NEW   PICrUBES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  88 

mg,  almost  howling  sound.  This  is  the  Witches'  Caldron. 
Its  temperatui'e,  as  approximately  ascertained  by  Capt. 
Davidson,  is  about  500  degrees.  An  egg  dipped  in  and 
taken  out  is  boiled ;  and  were  a  man  to  fall  in,  he  would  be 
reduced  to  broth  in  two  minutes. 

Climbing  to  a  little  rocky  point  above  this  caldron,  we 
pause  to  take  breath  and  look  around.  This  is  the  end  of 
the  canon — the  gulf  of  perdition  in  which  it  takes  its  rise. 
The  torn,  irregular  walls  around  us  glare  with  patches  of 
orange,  crimson,  sulphur,  livid  gray,  and  fiery  brown,  which 
the  last  rays  of  the  sun,  stiiking  their  tops,  turn  into  masses 
of  smouldeiing  fire.  Over  the  rocks,  crusted  as  with  a 
mixture  of  blood  and  brimstone,  pour  angry  cataracts  of 
seething  milky  water.  In  every  corner  and  crevice,  a  little 
piston  is  working  or  a  heart  is  beating,  while  from  a  hun- 
dred vent-holes  about  fifty  feet  above  our  heads,  the  steam 
rushes  in  terrible  jets.  I  have  never  beheld  any  scene  so 
entirely  infernal  in  its  appearance.  The  rocks  burn  under 
you ;  you  are  enveloped  in  fierce  heat,  strangled  by  puffs 
of  diabolical  vapor,  and  stunned  by  the  awM  hissing,  spit- 
ting, sputtering,  roaring,  threatening  sounds — as  if  a  dozen 
steamboats  blowing  through  their  escape-pipes,  had  aroused 
the  ire  of  ten-thousand  hell-cats.  You  seem  to  have  ven- 
( ared  into  a  prohibited  realm.  The  bubbling  pulses  of  the 
springs  throb  in  angry  excitement,  the  great  vents  over- 
head blow  warning  trumpets,  and  the  black  caldron  darts 
up  frothy  arms  to  clutch  and  drag  you  down. 

I  was  rather  humiliated,  that  I  alone,  of  all  the  party, 
was  made  faint  and  sick  by  the  vapors.  We  thereupon 
elimbed   the   "nery  Alps,"  crushing  the  brittle  sulphur 


84  AX   UOM£  AND   ABBOAD. 

crystals,  and  slipping  on  the  steep  planes  of  hot  mud,  iintU 
we  reached  the  top,  whence  there  is  a  more  agreeable,  but 
less  impressive  view  of  the  pit.     I  here  noticed  that  the 
steam  rushes  from  the  largest  of  the  vent-holes  with  such 
force,  and  heated  to  such  a  degree,  that  it  first  becomes 
visible  at  the  distance  of  six  feet  from  the  earth.     It  there 
begins  to  mix  with  the  air,  precipitate  its  moisture,  and 
increases  in  volume  to  the  height  of  eighty  feet.     In  the 
morning,  when  the  atmosphere  is  cool,  the  columns  iise 
fully  two  hundred  feet.    These  tremendous  steam-escapes 
are   the   most  striking  feature   of  the  place.     The  term 
"  Geysers"  is  incorrect :  there  is  no  spouting,  as  in  the 
springs   of  Iceland — no  sudden  jets,  with  pauses  of  rest 
between  :   yet  the  phenomena  are  not  less  curious.     Mi-. 
Godwin  informed  me  that  the  amount  of  steam  discharged 
is  greater  during  the  night  than  by  day,  and  in  winter  than 
in  summer.     I  presume,  however,  that  this  is  only  a  differ- 
ence in  the  visible  amount,  depending  on  the  temperature 
of  the  air — the  machinery  working  constantly  at  the  same 
rate  of  pressure. 

A  short  distance  to  the  east  is  another  cluster  of  pulsating 
springs,  on  the  side  of  the  hill.  Here  the  motions  are  again 
different,  and  present  some  curious  appearances.  In  one 
place  are  two  pistons  working  against  each  other ;  in  ano- 
ther, a  whirling  motion,  like  that  produced  by  the  blades  of 
propeller.  Still  further  up  the  valley  are  other  springs, 
which  Ave  had  no  time  to  visit.  The  accounts  heretofore 
published  are  very  incorrect.  No  appreciable  difference  in 
the  temperature  of  the  valley  is  occasioned  by  these  springs 
The  hotel  is  1800  feet  above  the  sea,  and  snow  falls  in  the 


NBW   PlCrUKES   FROM   CALLFOBNIA.  8fi 

innter.  The  abuudauce  of  maples  and  deciduous  oaka 
shows  the  same  decrease  of  warmth  as  is  elsewhere  observed 
at  the  same  height. .  The  plan  of  planting  tropical  trees  on 
the  sides  of  the  canon,  which  I  have  seen  mentioned  in  the 
California  newspapers,  is  preposterous.  No  vegetation  can 
exist  within  the  limits  of  the  heated  soil. 

Sunset  was  fading  from  the  tops  of  the  northern  hills,  as 
we  returned  to  the  hotel.  The  wild,  lonely  grandeur  of 
the  valley — the  contrast  of  its  Eden-like  slopes  of  turf  and 
forest,  with  those  ravines  of  Tartarus — charmed  me  com- 
pletely, and  I  would  willingly  have  passed  weeks  in  explor- 
ing its  recesses.  A  stage-road  is  to  be  made  over  the 
mountain,  but  I  should  prefer  not  to  be  among  the  first  pas- 
sengers. One  man,  they  say,  has  already  driven  across  in 
liis  buggy — a  feat  which  I  could  not  believe  to  be  possible. 
The  evening  before  our  arrival,  a  huge  grizzly  bear  walked 
past  the  hotel,  and  the  haunch  of  a  young  one,  killed  the 
same  day,  formed  part  of  our  dinner.  In  the  evening  I  sat 
in  the  veranda,  enjoying  the  moonlight  and  Capt.  David- 
son's stories  of  his  adventures  among  the  coast  tribes,  until 
thoroughly  overcome  by  sleep  and  fatigue. 

At  sunrise,  the  hissing  and  roaring  was  distinctly  audible 
across  the  valley.  The  steam  rose  in  broad,  perpendicular 
solurans,  to  an  immense  height.  There  was  no  time  for 
another  visit,  however,  for  we  were  obliged  to  reach  Napa 
City  the  same  evening,  and  by  seven  o'clock  were  in  our 
saddles.  The  morning  air  was  fragrant  with  bay  and  aro- 
matic herbs  as  we  climbed  the  awful  steep.  A  sweet  wind 
whispered  in  the  pines,  and  the  mountains,  with  their  hues 
jf  purple  and  green  and  gold,  basked  in  glorious  sunshine 


86  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

[n  spite  of  the  rough  trail  and  rougher  horses,  we  got  baclt 
to  Ray's  in  three  hours  and  forty  minutes.  My  companion 
dropped  from  the  saddle  into  a  chair,  unable  to  move.  Mr 
Dickinson,  with  kindly  forethought,  had  provided  some 
melons,  and  I  think  I  was  never  refreshed  with  more  cold 
and  luscious  hydromel. 


4. — ^A  Struogle  to  Keep  an  Appointment. 

The  change  from  our  bone-racking  saddle-horses  to  the 
light,  easy  buggy  and  span  of  fast  blacks,  made  the  com- 
mencement of  our  journey  a  veritable  luxury,  in  spite  of 
the  heat  and  dust.  Our  road  led  up  a  lateral  arm  of  Rus- 
sian River  Valley,  extending  eastward  toward  the  foot  of 
Mouht  St.  Helene.  Though  the  country  was  but  thinly 
settled,  there  was  more  than  one  stately  two-story  farm- 
house standing,  with  a  lordly  air,  in  its  natural  park  of  oaks, 
and  we  passed — what  I  had  been  longing  to  see — a  school- 
house.  The  few  cultivated  fields  were  fenced  without  re- 
gard to  expense — or,  rather,  with  a  proper  regard  to  their 
bountiful  hai^vests — yet  the  trees,  whose  slaughter  we  had 
lamented,  further  down  the  valley,  were  generously  spared. 
The  oaks  were  hung  with  streamers  of  silver-gray  moss, 
from  one  to  three  feet  long,  and  resembling,  in  texture,  the 
finest  point-lace.  So  airy  and  delicate  was  this  ornament, 
that  the  groves  through  which  we  passed  had  nothing  of 
that  sombre,  weeping  character  which  makes  the  cypress 
swamps  of  the  South  so  melancholy.    Here  they  were 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  89 

decked  as  if  for  a  bridal,  and  slept  in  languid,  happy  beauty, 
in  the  lap  of  the  golden  hills. 

More  than  once,  the  road  was  arbitrarily  cut  off,  and 
turned  from  its  true  course,  by  the  fencing  in  of  new  fields. 
This  was  especially  disagreeable  where  a  cove  of  level  bot 
tora-land  had  been  thus  inclosed,  and  we  were  forced  to 
take  the  hill-side,  where  the  wheels  slipped  slowly  along, 
one  side  being  dangerously  elevated  above  the  other.  I 
was  informed  (whether  truly  or  not  I  cannot  say)  that  the 
county  has  never  yet  located  a  single  road — consequently, 
the  course  of  the  highways  is  wholly  at  the  mercy  of  the 
settlers,  each  of  whom  makes  whatever  changes  his  interest 
or  convenience  may  suggest.  A  mile  of  side-hill  was  some- 
times inflicted  upon  us,  when  a  difference  of  ten  yards 
would  have  given  us  a  level  floor.  Our  horses,  however, 
were  evidently  accustomed  to  these  peculiarities,  and  went 
on  their  way  with  a  steadiness  and  cheerfulness  which  I  had 
never  seen  equalled. 

Still  more  remarkable  was  their  intelligent  manner  of 
crossing  the  deep  arroyos  which  we  encountered  near  the 
head  of  the  valley.  There  were  rarely  any  bridges.  The 
road  plunged  straight  down  the  precipitous  side  of  the  gul- 
ly, and  then  immediately  mounted  at  the  same  angle.  As 
we  commenced  the  descent,  the  horses  held  back  until  they 
seemed  to  stand  on  their  fore-feet,  poising  the  buggy  as  a 
juggler  poises  a  chair  on  his  chin.  When  halfway  down, 
they  cautiously  yielded  to  the  strain,  sprang  with  a  sudden 
impetus  that  took  away  one's  breath,  cleared  the  bottom, 
and,  laying  hold  of  the  opposite  steep  as  if  their  hoofs  had 
been  hands,  scrambled  to  the  top  before  the  vehicle  had 


88  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

time  to  recover  its  weight  by  wholly  losing  the  impulsion 
Even  my  inexperienced  companion,  to  whom  these  descents 
seemed  at  first  so  perilous,  was  soon  enabled  to  make  them 
with  entire  confidence  in  the  sagacity  of  the  noble  animals 

In  one  instance,  they  showed  a  self-possession  almost 
human.  We  came  to  an  arroyo^  which,  at  firet  sight,  ap- 
peared to  be  impassable.  It  was  about  forty  feet  deep,  the 
sides  dropping  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  and  meet- 
ing in  a  pool  of  water  at  the  bottom.  Down  we  went, 
with  a  breathless  rush ;  but,  fearing  that  the  sudden  change 
from  the  line  of  descent  to  that  of  ascent  might  snap  some 
bolt  in  the  vehicle,  I  checked  the  speed  of  the  horses  more 
than  was  prudent.  We  were  but  half  way  up  the  other 
side,  when  the  buggy  recovered  its  weight,  and  began  to 
drag  back.  They  felt,  instantaneously,  the  impossibility  oi 
bringing  it  to  the  top ;  stopped  ;  backed,  with  frightful 
swiftness,  to  the  bottom,  and  a  yard  or  two  up  the  side  they 
had  just  descended ;  then,  leaping  forward,  in  a  sort  of 
desperate  fury,  throwing  themselves  almost  flat  against  thy 
steep,  every  glorious  muscle  quivering  with  its  tension,  they 
whirled  us  to  the  summit,  I  felt  my  blood  flush  and  my 
nerves  tingle,  as  if  I  had  witnessed  the  onset  of  a  forlorn 
hope. 

Finally,  the  valley,  growing  narrower,  wholly  lost  itself 
m  a  labyrinth  of  low,  steeply-rounded,  wooded  hills.  The 
road,  following  the  dry  bed  of  a  stream,  was  laboriously 
notched  in  the  sides  of  these  elevations.  There  was  barely 
room  for  a  single  vehicle,  and  sometimes  the  hub  of  one 
wheel  would  graze  the  perpendicular  bank,  while  the  tir€ 
of  the  other  rolled  on  the  very  brink  of  the  gulf  below  us, 


NEW   PICTLliKS    iKOM    CALIFOENIA.  89 

The  chasms  were  spanned  by  the  rudest  kind  of  corduroj 
bridges.  Bad  and  dangerous  as  the  road  was,  it  was  really 
a  matter  of  surprise  that  there  should  have  been  any  road 
at  all.  The  cost  of  the  work  must  have  been  considerable, 
as  the  canon  is  nearly  two  miles  in  length.  I  had  every 
confidence  in  the  sagacity  of  our  horses,  and  knew  that  oui 
vehicle  could  safely  go  where  a  settler's  cart  had  already 
gone;  but  there  was  one  emergency,  the  possibility  ol 
which  haunted  me  until  my  nerves  fairly  trembled.  What 
if  we  should  meet  another  vehicle  in  this  pass!  No  turn- 
ing out,  no  backing,  often  not  even  the  chance  of  lowering 
one  of  them  by  ropes  until  the  other  could  pass  I  The 
turnings  were  so  sharp  and  frequent,  that  it  was  impossible 
to  see  any  distance  ahead ;  and  I  approached  eveiy  corner 
with  a  temporary  suspension  of  breath.  Suddenly,  in  the 
heart  of  the  canon,  where  the  bays  exhaled  thick  fragrance 
in  the  hot  air,  a  dust  arose,  and  horses'  heads  appeared 
from  behind  a  rock.  My  heart  jumped  into  my  mouth  for 
an  instant,  then — riders,  thank  Heaven  I 

"  Is  there  a  team  behind  you  ?''  I  cried. 

"  I  think  not,"  said  one  of  them.  "  Hurry  on,  and  you're 
safe !" 

The  pass  opened  into  a  circular  valley,  behind  which 
towered,  in  the  east,  the  stupendous  bulk  of  Mount  St. 
Helene.  This  peak  received  its  name  from  the  Russian 
settlers,  as  a  compliment  to  the  Grand-Duchess  Helene. 
It  is  generally  called  St.  Helena  by  the  Americans — who, 
of  all  people,  have  least  sense  of  the  fitness  of  names.  The 
-nountain,  5,000  feet  high,  rises  grandly  above  all  the 
neighboring  chains.    As  seen  from  this  point,  its  outline 


00  AT   UOM£   AXD   ABROAD. 

Btrikingly  resembles  that  of  a  recumbent  female  figure 
hidden  under  a  pall  of  purple  velvet.  It  suggests  to  youi 
mind  Ooreggio's  Magdalen,  and  a  statue  of  St.  Cecilia  in 
one  of  the  churches  of  Rome.  The  head  is  raised  and 
propped  on  the  folded  arms ;  the  line  of  the  back  swells 
into  the  full,  softly-rounded  hip,  and  then  sweeps  away 
downward  in  the  rich  curve  of  the  thigh.  Only  this  Titaness 
is  robed  in  imperial  hues.  The  yellow  mountains  around 
are  pale  by  contrast,  and  the  forests  of  giant  redwood 
seem  but  the  bed  of  moss  on  which  rests  her  purple  drapery. 

It  was  now  past  noon,  and  still  a  long  way  to  Napa 
City,  where  I  had  engaged  to  lecture  in  the  evening.  I 
supposed,  however,  that  we  were  already  in  Napa  Valley, 
with  all  the  rough  and  difficult  part  of  the  road  behind  us. 
Driving  up  to  the  first  settler's  shanty  I  accosted  a  coarse- 
sunburnt  fellow,  who  was  making  a  corral  for  pigs  and  cattle, 

"Howfar  to  Napa?" 

"  "Well  (scratching  his  head),  I  don't  exactly  know." 

"  Is  this  Napa  Valley  ?''  I  then  asked. 

"  No,"  he  answered ;  "  this  is  Knight's  Valley.  You've 
got  to  pass  Knight's  afore  you  come  to  Napa." 

Presently,  another  man  came  up  with  a  lasso  in  bis  hand, 
and  stated,  with  a  positive  air  of  knowledge  that  was  refresh- 
mg,  that  we  had  thii'ty  miles  to  go.  In  doubtful  cases,  how 
ever,  I  never  trust  to  a  single  informant ;  and  this  was  th« 
result  of  my  inquiries  in  passing  through  Knight's  Valley : 

Head  of  valley (to  Napa  City)  30  milas. 

AmUefiirther •'        "  27      ' 

Half  mile "        "  35    »' 

One    "       **        "  iB    " 

One-fourth  mil© •♦       *•  400)" 


SEW   PlCrUKES    FROM    CALIFORITLI.  91 

After  this,  I  gave  up  the  attempt  in  despair,  being  satis- 
fied that  T  was  npon  the  right  road,  and  that  if  the  place 
could  be  reached,  I  should  reach  it.  At  Knight's,  near  the 
eastern  end  of  the  valley,  we  found  a  company  of  emigrants, 
who  had  just  crossed  the  plains,  and  were  hastening  on, 
dusty  and  way-worn,  to  settle  on  Russian  River.  The  men 
were  greasing  the  wheels  of  their  carts,  while  the  younger 
children  unhitched  and  watered  the  horses.  The  former 
had  a  sullen,  unfriendly  look — ^the  result  of  fatigue  and 
privation.  An  emigrant,  at  the  close  of  such  a  journey,  is 
the  least  social,  the  least  agreeable  of  men.  He  is  in  a 
bad  humor  with  the  world,  with  life,  and  with  his  fellow- 
men.  Let  him  alone;  in  another  year,  when  his  harsh 
experience  has  been  softened  by  memory,  the  latent  kind- 
ness of  his  nature  returns — unless  he  be  an  incorrigible 
Pike.  Nothing  struck  me  more  pleasantly,  during  this  trip, 
than  the  uniform  courtesy  of  the  people  whom  we  met. 

Crossing  an  almost  imperceptible  divide,  after  leaving 
Knight's,  we  found  ourselves  in  Napa  Valley.  The  scenery 
wore  a  general  resemblance  to  that  of  Russian  River,  but 
was,  if  possible,  still  more  beautiful.  Mount  St.  Helena 
formed  a  majestic  rampart  on  the  north;  the  mountain- 
walls  on  either  hand  were  higher,  more  picturesquely 
broken,  and  more  thickly  wooded ;  the  oaks  rising  from 
the  floor  of  the  valley,  were  heavier,  more  ancient — some 
of  them,  in  fact,  absolutely  colossal — and  fir-trees  two  hun- 
dred feet  in  height  rose  out  of  the  dark  glens.  A  wide 
smooth  highway,  unbroken  by  arroyos,  carried  us  onward 
through  Druid  proves,  past  orchards  of  peach  and  fig 
farm-cottages  nestled  in  roses,  fields  and  meadows,  and  th< 


02  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

sunny  headlands  of  the  mountains.  It  was  a  region  of 
ravishing  beauty,  and  brought  back,  lovelier  than  before, 
the  day-dreams  which  had  haunted  me  in  the  valley  of  San 
Jos^. 

As  the  vallej  grew  broader,  and  settlements  became  more 
frequent,  we  encountered  the  old  plague  of  dust.  The 
violet  mountains,  the  golden  fields,  even  the  arching  ave- 
nues of  the  evergreen  oaks  vanished  in  the  black  cloud, 
which  forced  me  to  close  my  eyes,  and  blindly  trust  to  the 
horses.  To  add  to  our  discomfort,  we  were  obliged  to 
pass  drove  after  drove  of  cattle,  each  enveloped  in  almost 
impenetrable  darkness.  But  my  gallant  blacks  whirled  on, 
in  spite  of  it,  and  at  sunset  we  reached  a  gate  with  the 
inscription  "  Oak  Knoll" — the  welcome  buoy  which 
guided  us  into  our  harbor  for  the  night. 

Oak  Knoll  is  the  residence  of  Mr.  Osborne,  one  of  the 
largest  farmers  and  most  accomplished  horticulturists  ir 
California.  His  ranche  of  1600  acres  is  on  the  western 
side  of  the  valley,  four  miles  north  of  Napa  City.  It  is  a 
princely  domain,  as  it  comes  from  the  hands  of  Nature,  and 
its  owner  has  suflScient  taste  not  to  meddle  unnecessarily 
with  her  work.  The  majestic  oaks  she  has  nurtured  for 
centuries  form  a  splendid  irregular  avenue  for  the  carriage- 
road  to  his  house,  which  stands  upon  the  mound  she  placed 
for  it,  sheltered  by  the  mountains  behind,  and  overlooking 
the  valley  in  front — no  glaring  mass  of  brick,  or  Grecian 
temple  with  a  kitchen  attached,  but  a  quaint  wooden 
rtructure,  full  of  queer  corners  and  gables,  which  seemed 
to  have  grown  by  gradual  accretion.  Its  quiet  gray 
tint,  framed  in  dark  green  foliage,  was  a  pleasant  relid 


NEW   PICTUKES   FKOM   CALIFOEJTIA.  93 

to  the  eye,  after  looking  on  the  dazzling  colors  of  the  fieldi 
and  hills. 

After  riding  to  Napa  City  and  back  again  to  Oak  Knoll 
in  the  misty  night-air,  I  felt  satisfied  with  the  day's  work  — 
twelve  miles  of  mountain-climbing,  fifty-five  in  a  vehicle, 
and  one  lecture  (equal,  under  the  circumstances,  to  fifteen 
more !).  The  next  evening,  however,  was  appropriated  to 
San  Francisco,  involving  another  journey  of  nearly  equal 
extent.  So,  with  the  first  streak  of  dawn,  I  tore  my  bruised 
body  from  the  delicious  embrace  of  the  bed,  and  prepared 
to  leave  the  castle.  The  steamer  to  San  Francisco  left 
Napa  on  alternate  days,  and  Tuesday  was  not  one  of  them. 
There  was  no  other  way,  then,  but  to  drive  to  Benicia,  cross 
the  Straits  of  Carquinez,  take  a  fresh  team  to  Oakland,  and 
catch  the  last  ferry-boat  across  the  Bay.  It  was  a  difficult 
undertaking,  but  it  was  possible.  Mr.  Osborne,  to  whom 
there  is  no  such  word  as  "fail,"  started  us  off  with  a  cheer- 
ing prediction  and  a  basket  of  his  choicest  fruit.  The  five 
dusty  miles  to  Napa  City  soon  lay  behind  us,  and  I  left  my 
Petaluma  team  at  a  livery  stable,  in  good  condition. 

The  distance  to  Benicia  was  estimated  at  twenty-two 
miles.  It  was  necessary  that  I  should  reach  there  by  eleven 
o'clock,  as  the  ferry-boat  only  makes  a  trip  every  two  hours. 
I  asked  for  a  two-horse  buggy  and  driver,  which  the  stable- 
keeper  reftised,  on  the  ground  that  there  was  no  use  for  it. 
A  less  expensive  team  would  do  the  business.  He  produced 
a  taU,  clean-limbed  dun  mare,  which  he  said  would  "  pu* 
you  through."  I  could  drive,  myself,  and  leave  the  team 
in  Benicia.  Ten  dollars.  There  was  really  no  time  to  make 
Bay  other  arrangement,  so  I  acquiesced — wondeiing  why  if 


94  AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

is  that  the  liverymen  in  California  always  prefer  to  let  you 
drive  to  your  destination,  and  then  go  to  the  trouble  oi 
sending  for  the  team,  I  never  obtained  a  driver — though  ] 
always  offered  to  pay  especially  for  one — without  reluctance 

It  was  half-past  eight  when  we  were  fairly  seated  and  in 
motion.  Napa  City,  by  daylight,  resembles  any  young 
Western  "  city"— which  means,  a  very  moderate  specimen 
of  a  village.  There  were  two  or  three  blocks  of  low  houses, 
brick  and  frame,  ambitiously  stuck  against  each  other,  so  aa 
to  present  a  metropolitan  appearance —outside  of  these  a 
belt  of  frame  cottages  inserted  in  small  garden-plots,  with 
here  and  there  the  ostentatious  two-story  residence  of  the 
original  speculator  and  the  "  head-merchant,*'  surmounted 
by  a  square  pigeon-box,  called  an  "  observatory" — we  all 
know  how  such  a  place  looks.  The  population  is  about 
eight  hundred,  and  not  likely  to  increase  very  fast,  as  the 
region  supplied  from  this  point  does  not  extend  beyond  the 
valley.  Just  below  the  town,  Napa  Creek  terminates  in  a 
tide-water  slough,  which  enters  the  Bay  of  San  Pablo  near 
Mare  Island,  forming  a  channel  for  vessels  of  light  draught. 
Tule  swamps,  forming  at  first  narrow  belts  on  both  sides 
of  this  slough,  gradually  widen  as  you  descend  the  valley 
until,  at  its  mouth,  they  usurp  nearly  the  whole  of  its  sur- 
face. 

It  was  impossible  to  lose  the  road,  I  was  told.  I  there- 
fore drove  on  boldly,  occupied  with  getting  the  dun  mare 
gradually  warmed  up  to  her  best  speed,  until  I  noticed  that 
we  had  entered  a  lateral  valley,  which  lost  itself  in  a  deep 
canon  between  two  mountains  to  the  eastward.  The  road 
was  broad  and  well-ti-avelled ;  but  after  proceeding  twa 


NEW   PICTUKES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  95 

miles,  it  split  into  several  branches.  I  began  to  suspect  that 
we  were  on  the  wrong  trail,  and  therefore  hailed  two  women 
who  were  washing  clothes  near  a  shanty.  They  pointed  to 
the  main  branch,  which,  I  could  see,  climbed  the  mountain, 
assuring  me  that  it  was  the  road  to  Suscol — ^the  first  stage 
on  the  way  to  Beuicia.  The  broad  slope  of  the  mountain 
was  covered  with  a  stream  of  lava,  fi'om  an  eruption  thou- 
sands of  years  ago.  The  rough  blocks  had  been  cleared 
away  from  the  road,  but  the  ascent  was  still  very  toilsome. 
Twisted  live-oaks  partly  shaded  the  highway ;  above  ua 
towered  the  mountain,  bare  and  yellow,  while  the  canon, 
on  our  left,  sank  suddenly  into  a  gulf  of  blue  vapor.  It  was 
a  singularly  wild  and  picturesque  spot,  and  I  marvelled  that 
my  friends  had  made  no  mention  of  it. 

From  the  summit  we  had  a  prospect  of  great  beauty. 
All  Napa  Valley,  bounded  to  the  west  by  the  range  which 
divides  it  from  Sonoma,  lay  at  our  feet — ^the  transparent 
golden  hue  of  the  landscape  changing  through  lilac  into 
violet  as  it  was  swallowed  up  in  the  airy  distance.  The 
white  houses  of  the  town  gleamed  softly  in  the  centre  of 
the  picture.  I  gave  our  animal  but  a  short  breathing-spell, 
and  hurried  on,  expecting  to  find  a  divide,  and  a  valley  be- 
yond, opening  southward  toward  the  Straits  of  Carquinez, 
I  was  doomed,  however,  to  disappointment.  There  was 
no  divide ;  the  road  became  very  rough  and  irregular,  with 
■ide-hill  sections,  as  it  wound  among  the  folded  peaks.  We 
passed  the  shanty  of  a  settler,  but  nobody  was  at  home — 
the  tents  and  wagons  of  an  emigrant  party,  deserted, 
although  recently-washed  shirts  and  petticoats  hung  on  the 
bashes  j  and,  to  crown  all,  no  one  was  abroad  in  the  road 


96  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

Presently,  side-trails  began  to  branch  ofiF  into  the  glens; 
the  main  trail,  which  I  kept,  became  fainter,  and  finally. — 
two  miles  further — terminated  altogether  in  front  of  a 
lonely  cabin  1 

A  terrible  misgiving  seized  me.  To  miss  one's  way  is 
disagreeable  under  any  circumstances;  but  to  miss  it  when 
every  minute  is  of  value,  is  one  of  those  misfortunes  which 
gives  us  a  temporary  disgust  toward  life.  I  sprang  from 
the  buggy,  halloed,  tried  the  doors — all  in  vain.  "  0  ye 
generation  of  vipers !"  I  cried ;  "  are  ye  never  at  home  ?" 
Delay  was  equally  impracticable ;  so  I  turned  the  horse't 
head,  and  drove  rapidly  back.  A  boy  of  eighteen,  who 
came  down  one  of  the  glens  on  horseback,  thought  we 
were  on  the  right  road,  but  wasn't  sure.  At  last  I  espied 
a  shanty  at  a  little  distance ;  and,  leaving  the  buggy,  has- 
tened thither  across  a  ploughed  field,  taking  six  fuiTows  at  a 
stride.  A  homely  woman,  with  two  upper  teeth,  was  doing 
some  washing  under  a  live-oak.  "  Which  is  the  road  to 
Benicia  ?"  I  gasped.  "  Lord  bless  you  !"  she  exclaimed^ 
"where  did  you  come  from?''  I  pointed  to  the  canon, 
"  Sakes  alive  !  that's  jist  right  wrong  I  Why  didn't  you 
keep  to  the  left  ?  Now  you've  got  to  go  back  to  Napa, 
leastways  close  on  to  it,  and  then  go  down  the  valley,  fol- 
lerin'  the  telegraph  poles.'' 

Talk  of  a  "  sinking  of  the  heart !"  My  midriff  gave  way 
with  a  crash,  and  the  heart  fell  a  thousand  leagues  in 
second.  I  became  absolutely  sick  with  the  despairing  sense 
of  failure.  Here  we  were,  in  the  mountains,  seven  milea 
from  Napa,  all  of  which  must  be  reti'aced.  It  was  a  doubt- 
fill  chance  whether  we  could  reach  Benicia  in  season  for  the 


NEW   FICTUBKS   FKOM   CAldFO&SlX.  91 

next  fei-ry-boat,  at  1  p,  m. — and  then,  how  were  we  to  cross 
thg  mountains  to  Oakland  (twenty -five  miles)  by  5  p.  m,  ? 
It  had  been  my  boast  that  I  always  kept  my  appointments. 
During  the  previous  winter  I  had  lectui*ed  135  times  in  six 
nonths  without  making  a  failure.  I  had  ridden  all  night 
n  a  buggy,  chartered  locomotives,  spent,  in  some  instances, 
Uiore  than  I  received,  but  always  kept  the  appointment.  I 
had  assured  my  doubting  friends  in  San  Francisco  that  no- 
thing short  of  an  earthquake  should  prevent  me  from  retom- 
ing  in  season ;  yet  here  I  was,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  fore- 
noon, with  sixty-six  miles  of  mountains,  bays  and  straits  to 
be  overcome  !  The  merchant  who  loses  half  his  fortune  by 
an  imlucky  venture  is  a  cheerful  man,  if  his  sensations  could 
be  measured  with  mine. 

I  do  not  know  whether  other  lecturers  experience  the 
same  weiglit  of  responsibility.  If  they  do,  there  is  no  more 
anxious  and  unhappy  class  of  men.  The  smallest  part  of 
the  disappointment,  in  case  of  failure,  falls  upon  the  lecturer 
himself.  In  the  first  place,  the  evening  has  been  chosen  by 
the  association  which  engages  him,  with  a  nice  regard  to 
pecuniary  success.  Nothing  else  must  interfere,  to  divide 
the  attendance  of  the  public.  In  the  second  place,  five 
hundred,  or  a  thousand,  or  three  thousand  people,  as  the 
case  may  be,  hurry  their  tea,  or  decline  invitations,  or  trave. 
many  miles,  in  order  to  attend  ;  they  "  come  early  to  seour 
good  seats,"  wait  an  hour  or  two — the  dreariest  of  all  expe 
riences — and  then  go  home.  It  is  no  agreeable  sensation 
to  be  responsible  for  the  disappointment  of  one  individual  : 
multiply  this  by  a  thousand,  and  you  wiU  have  the  Bum 
total  of  my  anxiety  and  distress. 


98  .       AT  UOAUE  XHD  ABROAD. 

Back  again,  through  the  wild  canon ;  down  the  steep; 
whence  the  landscape,  so  sunny  before,  now  looked  dark 
and  wintry ;  over  the  bed  of  lava ;  across  the  bottona-land 
and  over  the  hill  we  went — until,  just  in  the  outskirts  of 
Napa  City,  we  found  the  telegraph  poles  and  a  broad  road 
leading  down  the  valley.  Two  hours  and  a  half  were  still 
left  us  for  the  twenty-two  miles.  The  dun  mare  was  full 
of  spirit,  and  I  began  to  pluck  up  a  little  spirit  also.  Roll- 
ing along  over  low,  treeless  hills,  we  reached  Suscol  (five 
miles)  in  half  an  hour.  The  dun  mare  whisked  her  tail  and 
stretched  out  her  head ;  her  hoofs  beat  a  lively  tattoo  on 
the  hard,  dry  soil,  as  she  trotted  off  mile  after  mile,  without 
a  break.  A  cool  wind  blew  up  from  the  bay,  bringing  us 
balsam  from  the  fields,  and  the  ride  would  have  been  glo- 
rious, if  we  could  have  enjoyed  it.  A  carriage  travelling 
the  same  way  enveloped  us  in  dust.  I  submitted  to  this,  as 
we  were  approaching  the  town  of  Vallejo,  opposite  Mare 
Island,  by  avoiding  which  we  could  save  a  mile  or  more, 
and  I  had  a  presentiment  that  the  caniage  was  bound  for 
Benicia.  True  enough,  it  struck  into  an  open  trail ;  I  fol- 
lowed, and  in  fifteen  minutes  found  myself  on  the  main 
road  to  Benicia.  For  this  service  I  thanked  the  travellers, 
by  pushing  ahead  and  giving  them  clouds  of  dust  to  swal- 
low. The  straits  of  Carquinez  lay  on  our  right,  sparkling 
in  the  sun.  The  road  crossed  the  feet  of  the  bare,  yellow 
hills,  upon  which  the  sun  beat  with  culinary  force ;  flecks 
of  foam  gathered  on  the  mare's  hide,  but  she  still  stepped 
out  merrily,  and  at  a  quarter  before  one  we  were  in 
Benicia. 

The  ferry-boat,  I  found,  did  not  leave  before  half-past 


NEW    PICTUBES   FEOM   CALIFORNIA.  90 

one,  and  consumed  half  an  hour  in  crossing  the  Strait  to 
Martinez.  This  left  me  but  three  hours  and  a  half  for  the 
journey  thither  to  Oakland.  Clearly  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  make  the  trip  over  the  mountains  in  a  vehicle — ^but 
it  might  be  done  on  horseback.  I  therefore  decided  to 
leave  my  wife  in  Benicia  (whence  she  could  reach  San  Fran 
oisco  by  the  evening  boat  from  Sacramento)  and  try  my 
further  luck  alone.  Having  telegraphed  to  San  Francisco 
that  if  I  should  not  arrive  in  the  last  boat  from  Oakland,  it 
was  to  be  specially  sent  back  for  me,  regardless  of  expense, 
there  was  notliing  further  to  be  done.  Dinner  was  upon 
the  table  at  the  hotel,  but  although  I  had  driven  forty-one 
rniles  since  breakfast,  I  found  it  impossible  to  eat. 

While  waiting  at  the  pier  for  the  ferry-boat,  a  man  came 
up  hastily,  saying : 

"Have  you  heard  the  news?  Broderick  is  killed!" 
"  What  ?»  "  When  ?»  '•  How  ?»  rang  on  all  sides. 
"This  morning — there  is  a  telegraphic  dispatch — Judge 
Terry  shot  him.  Broderick  is  dead,  and  Terry  has  run 
away !"  "  Well,"  said  one  of  the  bystanders,  "  it's  no  more 
than  was  expected."  This  was  true,  in  fact.  I  had  already, 
a  dozen  times,  at  least,  heard  the  prediction :  "  Broderick 
will  be  killed  afler  the  election  is  over."  I  do  not  suppose 
that  there  was  really  anything  like  a  conspiracy  to  that  end, 
as  his  friends  afterwards  charged  ;  but  fi-om  the  virulence 
which  marked  the  campaign,  a  series  of  duels  was  antioi- 
pated,  in  one  of  which  he  would  probably  fall.  No  man  in 
California  had  warmer  friends  or  bitterer  enemies. 

The  boat  was  delayed  by  taking  on  board  a  herd  of  cat- 
kle,  and  it  was  a  quaiter  past  two  before  I  landed  at  Mar 


100  AT    nOME   AND    ABROAD. 

tinez.  I  hastened  up  the  long  pier,  and  up  the  hot  village 
street,  until  I  discovered  a  livery  stable.  The  keeper  wag 
lounging  indolently  in  the  shade,  and  the  horses  seemed  to 
be  dozing  in  their  stalls.  "  Can  I  magnetize  this  repose, 
nd  extract  speed  from  it  ?"  was  the  question  I  put  to 
Qyself ;  whereupon  the  following  dialogue  ensued : — 

"  I  must  reach  Oakland  in  time  for  the  last  boat  for 
San  Francisco.  Give  me  two  fast  saddle-horses  and  a 
guide." 

"  It  can't  be  done  I"  (with  a  lazy  smile.) 

"  It  must  be  done  1  What  is  the  shortest  time  you  hav€ 
done  it  in  ?" 

"  Four  hours." 

"  How  much  do  you  get — ^two  Horses  and  a  man  ?" 

«  Fifteen  dollars." 

"  You  shall  have  twenty-five — saddle  the  horses  imme 
diately." 

"  There's  no  use  in  taking  saddle-horses — ^a  two-horse 
buggy  will  get  along  faster." 

"  Get  it  then  I     Instantly  !     Don't  lose  a  second  I" 

He  was  magnetized  at  last.  The  pass  which  I  made  over 
the  region  of  his  pocket,  subjected  him  to  my  will.  Hos- 
tlers, horses,  and  vehicles,  were  magnetized,  also.  There 
was  running  hither  and  thither — examination  of  bolts, 
buckling  of  straps,  comparison  of  horses — chaotic  tumult 
burst  out  of  slumber.  At  half-past  two  I  jumped  into  the 
Duggy.  We  had  exactly  three  hours  in  which  to  make  a 
journey  of  twenty-five  miles,  by  a  rough  road,  crossing  a 
mountain  range  two  thousand  feet  high.  The  horses  were 
«mall,  not  handsome,  but  with  an  air  of  toughness  and 


NBW  PICTOBBS  FBOM  CALIFOBNIA.  101 

courage :  the  driver  had  the  face  of  a  man  who  possesses  a 
sonscience.  These  were  encouraging  signs.  My  spiritual 
mercury  immediately  rose  to  fifteen  degrees  above  zero. 

It  was  hard,  though,  to  eat  still  ^hile  we  drove  mode- 
rately up  the  hot  glen  behind  Martinez,  waiting  for  thf 
horses  to  get  the  requisite  wind  and  flexibility  of  muscle. 
I  quieted  my  restless  nerves  with  a  cigar,  suflSciently  to 
enjoy  the  Arcadian  beauty  of  the  scenery.  Clumps  of 
evergreen  oak,  bay,  and  sycamore,  marked  the  winding 
course  of  the  stream ;  white  cottages,  embowered  in  fig- 
trees,  nestled  at  the  foot  of  the  hills,  every  opening  fold  of 
which  disclosed  a  fresh  picture ;  and  to  the  eastward  tow- 
ered, in  airy  purple,  the  duplicate  peak  of  Monte  Diablo. 
Out  of  this  glen  we  passed  over  low  hills  into  another,  and 
still  another,  enjoying  exquisite  views  of  the  valleys  of 
Pacheco  and  San  Ramon,  with  Suisun  Bay  in  the  distance. 
The  landscapes,  more  contracted  than  those  of  Napa  and 
San  Jose,  had  a  pastoral,  idyllic  character,  and  I  was  sur- 
prised to  find  how  much  loveliness  is  concealed  in  the  heart 
of  mountains  which,  as  seen  from  the  Bay,  appear  so  bare 
and  bleak.  Scarcely  any  portion  of  the  land  was  unclaimed. 
Farm  succeeded  to  farm,  and  little  villages  were  already 
growing  up  in  the  broader  valleys. 

The  afternoon  sun  burned  our  faces,  though  a  light 
breeze  tempered  the  heat  enough  to  allow  our  horses  to  do 
their  best.  I  urged  upon  the  di-iver  the  necessity  of  mak- 
ing all  he  could  at  the  start,  and  evaded  his  inquiries  with 
regard  to  the  time.  This  plan  worked  so  well  that  we 
reached  a  village  called  Lafayette,  thirteen  miles  from 
Martinez,  in  one  horn*  and  ten  minutes.     Here  we  watered 


102  AT   HOME   AKD   ABBOAD. 

the  horses,  and  I  lighted  a  fresh  cigar.  The  mercury  had 
risen  to  32°.  Beyond  this  extended  a  wild,  winding  valley, 
some  three  or  four  miles  in  length,  to  the  foot  of  the  high 
range.  The  hills  shut  us  in  closely :  settlements  became 
scanty,  and  at  last  we  entered  a  narrow  gorge,  througl 
which  the  road  had  been  cut  with  much  labor.  A  cleai 
brook  murmured  at  the  bottom ;  bay-leaves  scented  the  air, 
and  climbing  vines  fell  over  us  in  showers,  from  the 
branches  of  the  trees.  Through  the  dark  walls  in  front 
rose  the  blue  steep  of  the  mountain  which  we  were  obliged 
to  scale.  The  roughness  of  the  road  and  the  chance  of 
being  stopped  by  meeting  another  team  could  not  wholly 
spoil  my  delight  in  the  wild  beauty  of  this  pass. 

Now  we  grappled  with  the  bare  mountain-side,  up  which 
the  road  zigzagged  out  of  sight,  far  above.  Of  course,  it 
was  impossible  for  the  horses  to  proceed  faster  than  a  walk, 
and  the  lingering  remnants  of  my  anxiety  were  lost  sight 
of  in  the  necessity  of  preserving  the  equilibrium  of  our 
vehicle  on  those  sidelong  grades.  We  leaned,  first  to  the 
right  and  then  to  the  left,  changi-ng  at  every  turn,  to  keep 
our  wheels  upon  the  slippery  plane,  until  the  shoulder  of 
the  range  was  surmoimted,  and  we  saw  the  comb  about 
half  a  mile  distant.  From  the  summit  we  looked  down,  as 
from  the  eaves  of  a  house,  into  the  throat  of  a  precipitous 
canon  which  yawned  below  us.  Between  its  overlapping 
sides  glimmered,  far  away,  a  little  triangle  of  the  Bay  of  San 
Francisco.  Now,  let  us  see  how  much  time  is  left  to  reach 
the  shores  of  that  blue  vision?  Fifty-five  minutes  I  The 
mercury  immediately  sank  to  10**. 

What  a  plunge  it  was  until  we  reached  the  bottom  of  th< 


NEW   PICTUSES   P£OH   CALIFOENIA.  103 

Bummit-wall,  where  the  first  springs  gushed  forth  1 — ^and 
how  the  horses  held  back,  with  our  weight  pressing  upon 
them,  was  more  than  I  could  understand.  The  narrow 
caiion  then  received  us,  and  the  horses,  as  if  maddened  with 
the  previous  restraint,  dashed  recklessly  down  the  shelving 
road,  which,  as  it  crossed  from  one  side  to  the  other,  back 
and  forth,  obliged  us  to  fling  our  weight  always  on  the 
uppermost  wheels.  From  the  rapidity  of  their  descent,  a 
little  jolt  would  have  been  sufficient  to  have  hurled  us  over 
into  the  bed  of  the  stream.  The  excitement  of  the  race 
made  us  perfectly  regardless  of  the  danger :  there  was  even 
a  keen  sense  of  enjoyment,  to  me,  in  the  mad,  reckless  man- 
ner in  which  we  turned  the  sharp  corners  of  the  ravine,  or 
spun  along  brinks  where  the  pebbles,  displaced  by  our 
wheels,  rattled  on  stones  twenty  feet  below.  Neither  of  ua 
said  a  word,  but  held  fast  for  life,  flinging  our  bodies  half 
out  of  the  vehicle  as  the  road  shifted  sides.  There  was  one 
fear  hanging  over  us,  but  we  no  more  mentioned  it  than  the 
Alpine  traveller  would  shout  under  the  poised  avalanche 
which  the  sound  of  his  voice  might  start  from  its  bed. 

Corner  after  corner  was  passed ;  the  horizon  of  the  Bay, 
seen  through  the  gap  in  front,  sank  lower,  and  the  inter- 
vening plain  glimpsed  nearer.  Then  a  house  appeared — lo ! 
the  end  of  the  canon,  and  in  fifteen  minutes  from  the  top 
we  had  made  the  descent  of  more  than  two  miles !  We 
both,  at  the  same  instant,  drew  a  long,  deep  breath  of  relieij 
and  the  driver  spoke  out  the  thought  which  was  in  my  own 
.  mind.  "  That»s  what  I  was  afraid  of,"  said  he,  without 
further  explanation.  "  So  was  I,"  was  my  answer,  "I  didn't 
Bay  a  word  about  it,  for  fear  talking  of  it  would  make  it 


104  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

happen — but  think,  if  we  had  met  another  team  on  the  waj 
down!"  "Bnt  we  didn^t^"*  I  shouted;  "and  now  we'll 
catch  the  boat !  And  my  thermometer  stands  at  90" — and 
the  world  is  beautiful — and  life  is  glorious — ^and  all  men 
are  my  brethren !"  He  smiled  a  quiet,  satisfied  smile, 
merely  remarking:  "I  thought  I'd  do  it." 

The  remaining  trot  of  five  miles  over  the  plain  was  child*i 
play,  compared  with  what  we  had  done.  When  our  smok- 
ing and  breathless  horses  were  pulled  up  on  the  steamboat 
pier  at  Oakland,  there  were  just  eight  minutes  to  spare! 
We  had  made  the  trip  from  Martinez  in  two  hours  and  fifty- 
two  mhmtes — the  shortest  time  in  which  it  had  ever  been 
accomplished.  The  bystanders,  to  whom  my  driver  trium- 
phantly proclaimed  his  feat,  would  not  believe  it.  I  paid 
the  stipulated  twenty-five  dollars  with  the  greatest  cheer- 
fulness— every  penny  of  it  had  been  well  earned — ^jumped 
aboard  the  ferry-boat,  and  threw  myself  on  one  of  the  cabin 
sofas  with  an  exquisite  feeling  of  relief.  The  anxiety  I  had 
endured  through  the  day  wholly  counteracted  the  fatigue 
of  the  journey,  and  the  excitement  continued  without  the 
usual  reaction.  When  we  reached  San  Francisco,  at  seven 
o'clock,  I  found  my  friends  waiting  for  me  on  the  pier. 
They  had  arranged  to  send  the  boat  back  in  case  I  should 
not  arrive,  which  would  have  cost  one  hundred  dollars. 

Fortifying  myself  with  repeated  doses  of  strong  cofiee 
(for  there  was  no  time  to  get  dinner),  I  made  my  appear- 
ance on  the  rostrum  at  the  appointed  hour.  My  face  was 
baked  and  blistered  by  the  sun,  and  my  lungs  somewhat 
exhausted  by  the  day's  labors,  but  I  went  through  the  dis- 
aoorse  of  an  hour  and  a  half  with  very  little  more  than  th« 


NEW   PICrrUEES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  106 

Qsual  fatigue.  At  the  close,  when  I  felt  inclined  to  cougra 
tulate  myself  a  little,  I  was  rather  taken  aback  by  my  friendSj 
who  seeing  my  fiery  face,  and  knowing  nothing  of  the  day's 
struggle,  exclaimed,  with  wicked  insinuation:  "You  have 
been  dining  out  this  evening !"  At  ten  o'clock,  my  wife 
arrived  in  the  Sacramento  boat,  and  our  supper  at  the  On 
ental  was  a  happy  finis  to  the  eventful  day. 


5. — The  Sacramento  Valley, 

Before  completing  my  engagement  at  San  Francisco,  I 
had  already  made  ai-rangements  for  a  lecturing  tour 
through  the  interior  of  the  State.  Literary  associations  are 
few  in  California :  the  prosperity  of  the  mining  towns  is,  in 
general,  too  precarious — their  population  too  shifting — to 
encourage  the  growth  of  permanent  institutions  of  this 
character ;  and  the  lecturer,  consequently,  misses  the  shel- 
ter and  assistance  to  which  he  has  been  accustomed  at 
home.  He  must  accept  the  drudgery  along  with  the  profit. 
I  confess  that;~after  my  previous  experience,  the  undertak- 
ing was  not  tempting ;  but  while  it  was  incumbent  upon 
me  to  visit  the  mining  regions  before  leaving  California,  it 
was  also  prudent  to  make  the  visit  (such  is  human  nature !) 
pecuniarily  advantageous.  For  Sacramento  and  the  moun- 
tain-towns, I  secured  the  services  of  Mr.  E ,  news-agent, 

as  avant-coureur^  hirer  of  theatres,  poster  of  placards,  and 
distributer  of  complimentary  tickets. 

This  arrangement   took  the  drudgery  of  the   business 


106  AT    HOME   AND    ABBOAO. 

off  my  hands,  it  is  ti  ue ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  it  brought 
me  before  the  public  in  a  new  and  less  agreeable  character. 
No  longer  the  invited  guest  of  societies — no  longer  intro- 
duced to  audiences  by  the  presidents  thereof— I  fell  to  the 
level  of  itinerant  phrenologists  and  exhibitors  of  nitrous 
oxide  gas :  nay — let  me  confess  it — I  could  no  longer  look 
down  upon  the  Ethiopian  minstrel,  or  refuse  to  fraternize 
with  the  strolling  w^izard.  It  did  not  surprise  me,  therefore, 
that  the  principal  of  a  classical  academy,  in  a  town  which 
shall  be  nameless,  not  only  refused  to  hear  me,  but  denied 
permission  to  his  scholars.  "  He  is  an  author !''  exclaimed 
this  immaculate  pedagogue ;  "  yet  he  degrades  his  calling 
by  thus  appearing  before  the  public.  I  have  too  much 
respect  for  authors  to  countenance  such  degradation  I'' 

My  lecture  in  Sacramento  was  to  take  place  on  Saturday, 
and  my  friend,  Judge  Hastings,  of  Benicia,  arranged  for 
the  previous  evening  at  the  latter  place.  Preparing  our- 
selves, therefore,  for  a  month's  journey,  we  left  San  Fran- 
oiseo  in  the  afternoon  boat. 

About  twenty-five  miles  from  the  Golden  Gate,  the 
Bay  of  Pablo  terminates,  and  we  enter  the  Straits  of 
Carquinez,  which  connect  it  with  Suisun  Bay,  the  reservoir 
of  the  Sacramento  and  San  Joaquin  valleys,  lying  beyond 
the  Coast  Range.  These  straits  are  from  six  to  seven 
miles  in  length,  with  a  breadth  varying  from  half  a  mile  to 
foui'  miles.  With  their  bold  shores,  and  their  varying 
succession  of  bays  and  headlands  on  either  side,  they  have 
been  compared  to  the  Bosphorus — which,  indeed,  they  sur- 
pass in  natural  beauty.  When  the  hills,  folding  togethei 
in  softly-emb'acing  swells,  which  give  the  eye  a  delight 


SKW  PICIUJ1E3   FBOit  CALLFOBNIA.  lOV 

like  that  of  perfect  music  to  the  ear,  and  now  draped  in 
gilded  velvet  as  the  sunset  strikes  along  their  sides,  snail 
be  terraced  with  gardens  of  never-fading  bloom— when, 
besides  the  live-oak,  the  dark  pillars  of  the  cypress,  the 
ombelliferous  crowns  of  the  Italian  pine  and  the  plumy 
tutts  ol'  the  hardy  Chinese  palm  shall  flourish  in  their  shel- 
tering arms,  and  when  mansion  on  mansion  shall  line  the 
water's  edge,  with  balconies  overhanging  the  tide,  and 
boats  tossing  at  the  marble  steps — then  the  magnificent 
water-street  which  leads  from  Constantinople  to  the  Enxine 
will  find  itself  rot  only  rivalled,  but  surpassed. 

As  the  sun  went  down,  in  a  blaze  of  more  than  Medi- 
terranean beauty,  we  reached  Benicia.  In  1849,  many 
persons  actually  supposed  that  this  place  would  become 
the  commercial  metropolis  of  the  Pacific,  and  speculation 
raged  among  the  lots  staked  out  all  over  its  barren 
hills.  Vessels  of  the  largest  tonnage  could  lie  close  to 
the  shore,  said  they — forgetting  that  it  was  possible  to 
build  piers  at  San  Francisco.  There  was  a  fine  back- 
country — as  if  all  California  were  not  the  back-country 
of  its  metropolis !  In  fact,  there  was  no  end  to  the  argu- 
ments (especially  if  you  owned  a  lot)  advanced  to  prove 
that  San  Franciscb  must  go  down,  and  Benicia  must  go 
up!  But  Commerce  is  a  wilful  and  a  stubborn  goddess. 
She  pitches  on  a  place  by  a  sort  of  instinct,  aud  all  the 
coaxing  and  forcing  in  the  world  won't  budge  her  a  jot. 
Benicia  was  made  the  headquarters  of  the  Army — but  it 
didn't  help  the  matter.  Lots  were  given  away,  shanties 
ouilt,  all  kinds  of  inducements  offered — still,  trade  wouldn't 
3ome.    It  was  made  the  State  capital — but,  alas  I  it  is  not 


108  AT  HOMK  ANL    4BB0AD. 

even  the  county  seat  at  present.  It  is  still  the  same  baa"« 
looking,  straggling  place  as  when  I  first  saw  it,  but  witl 
more  and  better  houses,  the  big  brick  barracks  of  the  sol 
diers,  and  the  workshops  of  the  Pacific  Steamship  Company 
The  population  is  about  3,000. 

I  have  no  doubt  the  failure  of  his  plan  broke  old  Semple'i 
heart,  Robert  Scrapie,  the  lank  Indiana  giant — one  of  the 
first  emigrants  to  California,  and  the  President  of  the  Con- 
stitutional Convention  at  Monterey — owned  a  great  part  of 
the  land,  and  it  would  bring,  he  believed,  millions  of  money 
into  his  coffers.  He  never  spoke  of  San  Francisco,  but 
with  the  bitterest  disgust.  "  Augh  !"  he  exclaimed  to  me. 
as  we  once  camped  together  in  the  Pajaro  Valley ;  "  don't 
mention  the  name :  it  makes  me  sick !"  If  this  feeling  vaa 
general  among  the  speculators,  there  must  have  been  a 
great  many  invalids  in  California  about  that  time. 

The  superb,  solitary  mass  of  Monte  Diablo,  robed  in  tht 
violet  mist  of  twilight,  rose  before  us  as  we  landed  at  Beni- 
cia.  Monte  Diablo  is  a  more  giaceful  peak  than  Soracte : 
he  reproduces  the  forms  as  well  as  the  tints  of  the  storied 
mountains  of  Greece.  Like  Helicon  or  Hymettus,  he  over- 
looks a  ruin.  At  his  base,  on  the  shore  of  Suisun  Bay,  ano- 
ther metropolis  was  founded  by  Col.  Stevenson,  who  com- 
manded the  New  York  Regiment  sent  to  California  in  1 846. 
fle  called  his  embryo  city  (Heaven  help  us !)  "  New-York- 
ot-the-Pacific !"  Nature  tolerates  many  strange  names  iu 
our  United  States,  but  this  was  more  than  she  could  stand. 
In  1849,  I  saw  three  houses  there;  and  then^  one  could  not 
venture  to  laugh  at  beginnings.  What  was  my  joy,  when 
I  now  beheld  only  two  houses — one  of  them  uninhabited— 


HEW  picrruRES  feom  califobnia.  109 

and  was  informed  that  the  shore  was  covered  with  the  sk© 
letons  of  musquitos  which  had  died  of  starvation ! 

To  keep  my  engagement  at  Sacramento  the  next  evening, 
it  waa  necessary  that  we  should  make  the  journey  thither 
bv  land,  a  distance  of  sixty  miles  After  riding  in  a  jolting 
tage  around  the  gi'eat  tul6  marsh,  to  Suisun  City,  twenty 
miles  off,  I  had  the  good  luck  to  meet  a  gentleman  who 
placed  a  two-horse  team  at  our  disposal.  We  were  thus 
free  to  finish  the  journey  on  our  old  independent  footing. 

The  day  was  cloudless,  and  intensely  hot,  and  even  the 
dry,  yellow  grass  appeared  to  have  been  scorched  off  the 
cracked  and  blistered  earth.  Low  undulations  of  soil  rolled 
away  before  us,  until  the  plain  vanished  in  fiery  haze,  and 
the  wind  which  blew  over  it  was  as  the  blast  from  out  a 
furnace.  At  intervals  of  four  or  five  miles,  we  found  a  set- 
tler's cabin,  with  its  accompanying  corral  and  garden,  and 
a  windmill,  lazily  turning  in  the  heated  gusts.  Miles  away 
on  our  right,  a  blue  line  of  timber  marked  the  course  of  the 
Sacramento  River,  apparently  separated  from  us  by  a  lake, 
dotted  with  island-like  clumps  of  trees.  Every  distant 
depression  of  the  plain  was  filled  with  the  same  illusive  water. 
Newly-arrived  emigrants,  unacquainted  with  the  mirage, 
often  ride  far  out  of  their  trail,  in  the  endeavor  to  reach 
these  airy  pools.  An  accustomed  eye  has  no  difiiculty  in 
detecting  them,  as  the  color  is  always  that  of  the  sky, 
whereas  real  water  is  a  darker  blue. 

After  a  steady  travel  of  nearly  five  hours,  the  road 
swerved  to  the  right,  and  ascended  an  artificial  dyke,  or 
embankment,  which  has  been  made  with  much  labor,  in 
order  to  raise  it  above  the  reach  of  the  winter  floods.     At 


110  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

intervals  of  fifty  or  a  hundred  yards,  there  are  bridges,  tc 
allow  passage  for  the  water :  and  I  think  we  must  have 
crossed  twenty-five  of  them  in  the  distance  of  a  mile.  On 
either  side  were  dried-up  swamps  of  giant  tul6.  This 
causeway  conducted  us  to  the  river-bank,  which  is  con» 
de:ably  higher  than  the  plain  in  its  rear.  Thence,  for  sii 
miles,  we  followed  the  course  of  the  stream — the  road,  deep 
in  dust,  winding  among  golden  and  purple  thickets,  which 
exhaled  the  most  delicious  fragrance,  and  under  the  arching 
arras  of  the  oak  and  sycamore.  It  was  a  storehouse  of 
artistic  foregrounds.  I  know  not  which  charmed  us  most 
— the  balmy,  shadowed  sweetness  of  the  air,  the  dazzling 
gaps  of  sunshine,  the  picturesque  confusion  of  forms,  or  the 
splendid  contrasts  of  color. 

Four  miles  below  Sacramento,  we  crossed  the  river  on  a 
ferry-scow,  and  hastened  onward  through  Sutterville ;  for 
the  sun  was  nigh  his  setting.  A  cloud  of  white  dust  hid 
the  city,  and  lay  thick  and  low  all  over  the  plain.  Increas- 
ing in  volume,  huge,  billowy  eddies  of  it  rolled  toward  us, 
and  we  were  presently  blinded  by  the  clouds  that  arose 
from  our  own  wheels.  Of  the  last  two  miles  of  the  drive  I 
can  say  nothing — for  I  saw  nothing.  Often  there  was  a 
rattling  of  wheels  near  me,  as  the  strings  of  vehicles  return- 
ing from  the  fair-grounds  passed  by ;  but  the  horses  instinct 
ively  avoided  a  collision.  I  shut  my  eyes,  and  held  my 
breath  as  much  as  possible,  until  there  came  a  pnff  of  fresher 
air,  and  I  found  myself  in  one  of  the  watered  streets  of  the 
city.  Blinded,  choked,  and  sun-burned,  we  alighted  at  the 
St.  George  Hotel,  and  were  so  lucky  as  to  find  a  room. 
The  city,  like  San  Francisco,  was  altogether  a  different 


KEW   PICTURES   FEOM   CALTPORNTA.  HI 

place  from  the  picture  in  my  memory.  Having  been  not 
only  laid  in  ashes,  but  completely  washed  away  by  the 
inundation  of  1853,  not  a  house  remains  from  the  pioneer 
times.  It  was,  in  reality,  only  six  years  old — a  fact  which 
accounted  for  the  light  character  of  much  of  the  architec- 
ture, and  the  unusual  number  of  one-story  buildings.  The 
streets  are  broad,  inflexibly  right-angled,  and  prosaically 
named  after  the  numerals,  and  the  letters  of  the  alphabet. 
The  business  portion  of  the  city  extends  five  or  six  blocks 
back  from  the  river,  and  a  greater  distance  along  J,  K,  and 
L  streets.  Beyond  this  region,  there  are  many  beautiful 
private  residences  and  gardens.  The  place  is  greatly 
admu-ed  by  its  inhabitants,  but  the  uniformity  of  surface 
and  plan  made  it  appear  tame  and  monotonous,  after  San 
Francisco. 

The  first  thing  I  looked  for,  and  totally  missed,  was  the 
profusion  of  grand,  ancient  oaks  and  sycamores,  which  once 
adorned  the  streets.     Every  one  had  fallen — some  destroyed 
in  the  conflagration,  but  the  most  part  cut  down,  because 
they  interfered  with  buildings,  or  dropped  their  aged  limbs 
in  a  storm.    Their  place  was  miserably  filled  with  rows  of 
young  cottonwoods,   of  astonishing  growth,   which   cast 
alternate  showers  of  down  and  sticky  gum  upon  the  gar- 
ments of  those  who  walk  in  their  shade.    I  grieved  over 
he  loss  of  the  noble  old  trees.    Perhaps  it  was  inevitabl 
hat  they  should  fall,  but  it  was  none  the  less  melancholy. 
Sacramento  is  a  cheerful,  busy  town  of  about  15,000 
inhabitants,  with  a  State-house  which  would  be  imposing  if 
it  were  all  one  color,  substantial  churches  and  school-houses, 
a  few  flourishing  manufactories,  and  drinking  salotms  innu 


112  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

merable.  It  boasts  the  best  daily  paper  in  the  State  (Tht 
Union),  the  biggest  hotel,  and  (being  the  capital)  the  worst 
class  of  politicians.  It  is  a  city  whose  future  is  si/re, 
but  whose  character  must  necessarily  be  provincial.  Its 
difference  from  San  Francisco,  in  this  respect,  is  already 
striking. 

Hearing  the  sound  of  solemn  singing  in  the  street,  on 
Sunday  morning,  I  went  upon  the  balcony.  There  wag 
a  crowd  below,  collected  around  a  young  man  with  a  pale 
face  and  short-cut  blonde  hair,  who  was  singing  a  Method- 
ist hymn,  in  a  clear,  penetrating  voice.  After  he  had 
finished,  he  commenced  an  exhortation  which  lasted  about 
twenty  minutes,  the  crowd  listening  with  respectful  atten- 
tion. At  its  close,  a  seedy-looking  individual  went  around 
with  a  hat,  with  such  good  result,  that  some  twenty  or  thir- 
ty dollars  in  silver  were  poured  out  on  a  stone  at  the 
preacher's  feet.  By  this  time,  most  of  the  ladies  in  the 
hotel  were  collected  on  the  balcony.  Casting  his  eyes  up- 
ward, the  preacher  acknowledged  their  presence  in  a  series 
of  remarks  rather  courtly  than  clerical.  He  concluded  by 
saying :  "That  distinguished  traveller,  Bay-StxdL  Taylor,  has 
also  stated  that,  wherever  he  went,  he  was  kindly  treated  by 
the  ladies!  When  he  visited  the  Esquimaux,  in  the  Arctic 
Regions,  the  ladies  received  him  with  great  hospitality ; 
and  even  among  the  Hottentots,  his  friends  were  still — the 
ladies/^*  Not  content  with  attributing  Ledyard's  senti 
ment  to  myself,  he  made  that  noble  traveller  guilty  of  a  vul- 
garism. Ledyard  said  "  woman,'*^  not  "  lady.''  After  this, 
I  can  almost  credit  Miss  Martineau's  statement,  that  an 
American  clergyman  said,  in  one  of  his  sermons :  "  Whc 


NEW   PICrUEES   FROSt   CALIFORNIA.  113 

were  last  at  the  cross  ?    Ladies !    Who  were  earlie&t  at  tht 
sepulchre  ?     Ladies !" 

The  State  Agricultural  Fair  (then  in  progress)  was  held 
in  a  Pavilion,  the  erection  of  which,  for  this  spedal  occa 
sion,  was  the  boast  of  the  city.  It  was  a  hall  of  brick,  rest- 
ing on  a  basement — two  hundred,  by  one  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  in  dimensions,  and  fifty  in  height.  About  seven  weeks, 
only,  were  consumed  in  building  it.  The  display  of  pro- 
ductions— agricultural,  horticultural,  mineral,  mechanical, 
and  artistic — astonished  even  the  Califomians  themselves. 
Few  of  them  had  been  aware  of  the  progress  which  their 
State  had  made  in  the  arts — ^nor,  though  familiar  with  the 
marvellous  energies  of  her  soil,  could  they  guess  how  rich 
and  varied  were  its  productions,  until  thus  brought  toge- 
ther. Few  of  the  annual  fairs  of  our  Atlantic  States  could 
have  surpassed  it  in  completeness,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
vegetable  wonders  which  can  be  seen  nowhere  else  in  th« 
world. 

Entering  the  basement,  you  saw  before  you  a  collection 
of  carriages,  fire-engines,  saddlery,  harness,  furniture,  and 
agricultural  implements — all  of  California  manufacture; 
blocks  of  granite  and  freestone,  blue,  white,  and  amber 
Suisun  marble :  statuary,  cured  hams,  pickles,  sauces,  pre- 
serves, canned  fruits,  dried  fruits,  honey,  oil,  olives,  soap 
butter,  cheese,  vinegar :  twenty  or  thirty  different  varietie 
of  wine :  rows  of  bee-hives  near  the  windows,  which  were 
opened,  that  the  unembarrassed  insects  might  go  on  with 
their  work  :  rope,  tanned  hides,  boots,  clothing  ;  in  short 
all  the  necessaries  of  life,  and  not  a  few  of  the  luxuries 
Coming  upon  a  pile  of  gjreen  boulders — huge  geodes  of 


114  AT   HOMB    AND    ABROAD. 

malachite,  you  suspect — you  find  them  to  be  water-melona 
walking  down  a  glen,  between  rounded  masses  of  orange 
colored  rock,  you  see,  at  last,  that  they  are  only  pumpkins, 
weighing  two  hundred  and  sixty  pounds  apiece !  What  ifl 
this  silvery  globe,  the  size  of  your  head  ?  Bless  me,  ax 
onion !  Are  those  turnips,  or  paving-stones  ?  Whitr 
columns  of  celery,  rising  from  the  floor,  curl  their  crisp 
leaves  over  your  head ;  those  green  war-clubs  are  cucxmi- 
bers ;  and  these  legs,  cut  off  at  the  groin  and  clad  in  orange 
tights,  are  simply  carrots  1 

Again,  I  say,  it  is  useless  to  attempt  a  description  of 
Califoniia  vegetables.  The  above  comparisons  suggest  no 
exaggeration  to  those  who  have  seen  the  objects — yet  my 
readers  this  side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  will  not  believe 
It.  Growth  so  far  beyond  the  range  of  our  ordinary  expe- 
rience seems  as  great  a  miracle  as  any  which  have  been 
performed  by  the  toe-nails  of  saints.  I  have  been  informed 
even,  that  some  vegetables  change  their  nature,  after  being 
transplanted  here  for  a  few  years.  The  lima-bean  becomes 
perennial,  with  a  woody  stem ;  the  cabbage,  even  (though 
I  should  prefer  seeing  this),  is  asserted,  in  one  instance,  to 
have  changed  into  a  sort  of  shrub,  bearing  a  head  on  the 
end  of  every  branch  I  I  believe  no  analysis  of  the  various 
soils  of  California  has  yet  been  made.  It  would  be  curious 
to  ascertain  whether  this  vegetable  vigor  is  mostly  due  to 
a  fortunate  climate,  or  to  a  greater  proportion  of  nutriment 
in  the  earth  than  is  elsewhere  found. 

The  great  hall  was  devoted  principally  to  fruits,  and  pre- 
sented a  rare  banquet  of  color  and  perfume.  Green,  lemon 
yellow,  gold,  orange,  scarlet,  pink,  crimson,  purple,  violet 


KEW   PICTUEES  FBOM  CAIXPOBNIA.  115 

blue,  and  their  mottled  combinations,  fairly  made  the  mouth 
water  from  the  delight  of  the  eye.  There  were  thousands 
of  specimens,  from  gardens  in  the  Sierra  Nevada  and  gar- 
dens on  the  sea-coast ;  in  Los  Angeles,  under  the  palm,  and 
in  Oregon  under  the  pine.  A  fountain,  at  one  end  of  the 
hall,  played  upon  two  enormous  cubes  of  crystal  ice — one 
from  Nevada  Lake  and  one  from  Sitka.  The  latter  was  so 
airily  clear,  that  it  would  have  been  invisible  but  for  the 
gleam  of  light  on  the  edges.  As  an  illustration  of  progress 
in  California,  the  contents  of  the  pavilion  were  doubly  re- 
markable. Who  so  mad,  ten  years  ago,  as  to  have  pre- 
dicted this  result  ?  Who,  now,  can  appreciate,  without 
seeing  it  ? 

I  must  not  leave  Sacramento  without  speaking  of  the 
garden  and  nursery  of  Mr.  A.  P.  Smith,  a  visit  to  which 
was  the  crown  and  culminating  point  of  a  glorious  ride  over 
the  plain  around  the  city.  After  dragging  along  through 
deep  roads,  where  wagon-loads  of  straw  had  been  scattered, 
to  keep  down  the  dust,  we  approached  the  American  Fork, 
some  three  miles  above  Sacramento.  There  were  various 
suburban  beer-gardens,  shaded  with  cottonwoods,  and  with 
long  arbors  of  grape-vines  to  attract  the  Teutonic  imbibera 
— all  of  them  pleasant  places,  but  tame  and  vulgar  in  com- 
parison to  what  we  were  to  see. 

An  avenue,  lined  with  locusts  and  arbor  vifce^  conducted 
as,  finally,  to  some  neat  wooden  cottages,  the  verandas  of 
which  were  overrun  with  the  scarlet-fruited  passion-flowei 
A.  clean  gravel  road  inclosed  a  circle  of  turf,  in  the  centre 
whereof  grew  willow,  locust,  and  pomegranate  trees, beyond 
which  extended  a  wilderness  of  splendid  bloom.    Behind 


116  AT  HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

the  house  rose  the  frmge  of  massive  timber  which  lines  the 
American  Fork.  A  senes  of  stairs  and  balcony-terraces 
connected  one  cottage  with  another,  and  formed  an  easy 
access  to  the  very  roof-tree.  A  wild  grape-vine,  which  had 
BO  coveied  an  evergreen  oak  that  it  resembled  a  colossal 
fountain,  pouring  forth  volumes  of  falling  Bacchic  leaves, 
stretched  forth  arms  from  the  topmost  boughs,  took  hold 
of  the  balconies,  and  ran  riot  up  and  down  the  roof,  wav- 
ing its  arms  above  the  very  chimneys.  Behind  this  Tita- 
nic bower  were  thickets  of  bay  and  willow,  with  a  glimpse 
of  the  orange-colored  river,  framed  on  the  opposite  side, 
by  as  grand  and  savage  a  setting.  From  the  top  of  the 
roof,  the  eye  overlooked  the  whole  glorious  garden,  the 
spires  of  the  city,  the  yellow  plain,  vanishing  in  purple  haze, 
and  the  range  of  violet  mountains  in  the  east. 

I  was  curious  to  see  what  had  been  done  toward  intro- 
ducing the  trees  and  plants  of  other  parts  of  the  world  into 
a  climate  so  favorable  to  all,  from  Egypt  to  Norway.  1 
found  even  more  than  I  had  anticipated.  There,  side  by 
side,  in  the  open  air,  grew  the  natives  of  Mexico,  Australia, 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  China,  the  Himalayas,  Syria,  Italy, 
and  Spain.  The  plants  were  mostly  very  young,  as  suffi- 
cient time  had  not  elapsed  since  the  seeds  were  procured, 
to  enable  any  of  them  to  reach  a  full  development ;  but  the 
character  of  their  growth  was  all  that  could  be  desired.  To 
my  great  delight,  I  found  not  only  the  Indian  deodar  and 
the  funeral  cypress  of  China,  but  the  cedar  of  Lebanon, 
and  the  columnar  cypress  of  Italy,  and  the  Orient.  The 
exquisite  Cape  ericas  and  azaleas  flourished  as  in  their  nativt 
air ;    the  thready  tamarack  of  Africa,  the  Indian-rubber 


NEW   PICTUEES   FROM   CALIFOBNIA.  IH 

tree,  the  Aubtraliau  eucalyptus^  and  the  Japanese  camelia 
were  as  lush  and  luxuriant  as  if  rejoicing  in  their  new  home. 
In  the  conservatories,  no  artificial  heat  is  required,  except 
for  the  orchids  and  other  tender  tropical  plants.  What  a 
vegetable  splendor  will  California  present  in  fifty  years  from 
now !  I  should  almost  be  content  to  live  so  long,  that  my 
ayes  might  behold  it.  , 

Not  less  remarkable  was  the  superior  luxuriance  which 
the  growths  of  the  Atlantic  States  exhibit,  when  transferred 
to  the  Pacific  Side.  The  locust,  especially,  doubles  the 
size  of  its  leaf,  and  its  pinnated  tufts  almost  rival  those  of 
the  sago  palm.  The  pawlonia  spreads  a  tremendous  shield . 
and  even  the  evergreens,  especially  the  ihuya^  manifest  a 
new  vitality.  The  rose  is  frequently  so  large  as  to  suggest 
the  idea  of  a  peony,  yet  loses  nothing  of  its  fragrance  and 
beauty.  I  never  beheld  a  more  exquisite  bouquet  of  half- 
blown  roses,  than  Mr.  Smith's  gardener  cut  for  my  com- 
panion. Great  beds  of  violets,  heliotrope,  and  mignonette, 
fairly  ran  wild,  like  weeds,  and  the  lemon  verbena  became 
a  bush,  higher  than  our  heads.  The  breezes  fainted  with 
excess  of  perfume  as  they  came  over  this  garden — the  lan- 
guid, voluptuous  atmosphere  of  which  can  only  be  com- 
pared to  that  of  the  nutmeg  orchards  of  Ceylon. 

Mr.  Smith  related  to  me  a  curious  fact  with  regard  to  the 
habits  of  fruit-trees  in  California.  He  uses  no  irrigation — 
in  fact,  finds  no  necessity  for  it.  Seeing  that  the  young 
trees  throve  without  interruption,  during  the  long  summer 
drouth,  he  was  led  to  examine  them  closely,  and  discovered 
tli:it  every  plant  makes  it  the  first  business  to  send  down  % 
straight,  slender  tap-root,  until  it  reaches  the  stratum  of 


118  AT  UOMB  AND   ABROAD. 

moisture.  Having  once  accomplished  this,  it  feels  securct, 
and  devotes  its  energies  to  the  visible  portion  of  its  body. 
I  saw  a  pear  tree,  three  feet  high,  which  in  one  summer  had 
thrust  a  tap-root  six  feet  straight  down  into  the  earth,  and 
no  thicker  than  a  knitting-needle  1  All  plants  appear  to 
change  in  this  respect. 

And  then  comes  the  question — if  plants  change,  where- 
fore not  men  ?  And  if  so,  how  ?  Or  is  the  change  only 
in  the  hidden  roots  of  our  character,  not  in  the  boughs  and 
blossoms  which  we  show  to  the  world  ? 

Travelling  in  California  is  very  like  what  it  was  in  the 
Atlantic  States  thirty  years  ago.  The  stage-coach,  obsolete 
among  us,  is  there  a  prominent  institution.  The  varioue 
lines  are  very  well  managed,  on  the  whole — the  proportion 
of  speed  and  safety  being  fully  up  to  the  old  average. 
There  are,  however,  three  disadvantages — jolts,  dust,  and 
Chinamen.  The  amount  of  freighting  done  on  all  the  prin 
cipal  roads  speedily  wears  the  best  highways  into  holes  and 
ruts ;  the  hoofs  of  four  horses,  playing  in  a  bed  of  pow- 
dered earth,  raise  volcanic  puffs  of  brown  dust ;  and  unless 
you  are  on  a  hard  plain,  where  there  is  a  pick  of  tracks, 
and  the  wind  abeam,  you  have  your  mouth  jerked  open  as 
fast  as  you  can  shut  it,  and  choked  every  time  it  is  opened. 
Then  the  proximity  of  a  greasy,  filthy  Chinaman,  with  his 
yellow,  libidinous  face  and  sickening  smell  of  stale  opium, 
is  in  itself  sufficient  to  poison  all  the  pleasure  of  the  jour- 
ney. I  have  oflen  felt  an  involuntary  repulsion  when  seated 
near  a  negro  in  some  public  conveyance,  at  home ;  but  1 
confess  I  would  rather  be  wedged  in  between  two  of  the 
blackest  Africans  than  be  touched  by  one  Chinaman.    Ic 


ITEW   PICTURES   FEOM    CALIT'ORNIA.  118 

both  cases,  the  instinct  is  natural  and  unconquerable ;  but 
on  the  score  of  humanity,  the  former  race  stands  immea 
Burably  above  the  latter. 

I  must  plead  guilty  to  a  prejudice  against  the  Chinese. 
If  it  were  possible  for  human  nature  to  be  so  thoroughly 
perverted  that  even  the  simplest,  most  general  ideas  of 
right  and  wrong  should  be  transmitted  from  generation  to 
generation  in  distorted  forms,  this  phenomenon  would  be 
found  among  them.  Of  all  people  with  whom  I  have 
become  acquainted,  they  stand  on  the  lowest  moral  plat- 
form— rather,  indeed,  on  none  at  all :  and  when  one  once 
knows  with  what  abominations  their  lives  are  filled,  he 
sees,  thenceforward,  pollution  in  their  presence.  Those 
who  have  been  in  China  will  understand  me — ^for  many  of 
the  reasons  of  my  dislike  cannot  be  told.  The  Chinaman 
in  California,  it  is  true,  is  hardly  treated ;  but  it  were 
better  if  he  could  have  been  wholly  excluded.  He  has  the 
one  virtue  of  industry,  and  his  cheap  habits  of  life  enable 
him  to  get  a  profit  out  of  bars  desei'ted  by  the  white 
miners,  and  soil  scorned  by  the  white  farmers.  In  this 
way,  he  adds  something  to  the  production  of  the  State :  he 
also  washes,  cooks,  and  serves  in  various  menial  capacities 
— but  I  doubt  whether  these  services  atone  for  the  moral 
contamination  of  his  presence.  I  have  never  found  it  more 
difficult  to  exercise  Christian  charity,  than  toward  these 
Atngi  of  a  rotten  civilization. 

On  leaving  for  Marysville,  I  avoided  the  three  disoom 
forts  of  stage  travel,  by  securing  a  seat  behind  the  driver. 
Rolling  out  through  the  watered  streets  of  Sacramento, 
between  shivering  rows  of  dusty  cottonwoods,  which  con 


120  AT   HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

tinually  drop  their  gum  and  tow  on  the  promenaders,  wt 
speedily  reached  the  American  Fork.  The  color  of  these 
rivers,  since  the  discovery  of  gold,  has  changed  from  a 
pure  crystalline  beryl  to  an  opaque  reddish-yellow,  similar 
to  that  of  pickled  salmon.  They  are  not  only  hopelessly 
)olluted,  but  the  earth  brouglit  continually  down  from 
bove  fills  up  the  channel,  changes  its  course,  increases 
mundations,  and  year  after  year,  so  clogs  the  bed  of  the 
Sacramento  that  steamboat  navigation — which  is  now 
feasible  for  one  hundred  and  eighty  miles  above  the  city — 
threatens  to  be  cut  oif  altogether. 

A  balmy  wind  blew  from  the  north,  carrying  the  dust 
away  from  us,  and  the  journey,  in  my  lofty  seat,  with  a 
free  outlook  over  the  vast  landscape,  was  very  enjoyable. 
At  the  Six-Mile  House,  our  horses  were  watered,  and  the 
passengers  brandied  :  at  the  Twelve-Mile  House,  the  horses 
were  changed,  and  the  passengers  whiskied.  Our  speed 
perceptibly  increased  after  each  halt,  and  ere  long,  the  far 
line  of  oaks  marking  the  course  of  the  Feather  Rivei 
became  visible.  First,  a  pale-blue  braid,  tacked  along  the 
hern  of  the  landscape,  it  gradually  became  an  irregular 
flounce,  cut  into  embayed  scallops ;  and,  finally,  the  very 
pattern  on  the  golden  ground  of  Nature's  dress.  The  eye 
rested  with  double  delight  on  those  superb  trees,  after  the 
monotony  of  the  sun-scorched  plain.  The  river  flows  in  a 
more  contracted  bed  than  the  American  Fork,  whence  it  is 
navigable,  although  the  body  of  water  is  not  greater. 

A  quiet,  sleepy  little  place  is  the  town  of  Nicolaus,  on 
Feather  river,  twenty-five  miles  from  Sacramento.  Hug« 
7aks,  stretching  their  arms  over  the  single  broad  street, 


NBW    PICTUBKS   FBOM    CALIFORNIA.  121 

give  it  an  air  of  rural  repose.  There  is  also  a  very  com 
Portable  inn,  where  we  halted  a  few  minutes,  and  the 
passengers  beered  or  brandied.  Owing  to  this  fact,  no 
doubt,  the  new  horses  were  exceedingly  spirited,  and  the 
four  miles  to  Bear  Creek  were  accomplished  in  twenty 
minutes.  Over  the  bard,  level  road,  through  alternate 
belts  of  sunshine  and  shade,  galloped  the  four  fiery  animals 
until  we  reached  a  spot  which  was  to  have  been  called 
"Oro,"  and  would  have  been,  if  anybody  could  have 
been  induced  to  settle  there.  A  single  house,  on  a  knoll 
above  the  dry  bed  of  Bear  Creek,  is  all  that  is  to  be  seen. 
This  was  formerly  one  of  the  many  capitals  of  the  State. 
A  certain  State  Senator,  who  bought  a  ranche  here,  intro- 
duced a  bill  making  it  the  seat  of  government.  "  Why," 
remarked  another  member,  "  there  is  no  water  in  Bear 
Creek  :  how  will  steamboats  get  up  to  the  place  ?'*  "  Do 
you  mean  to  insult  me  ?"  exclaimed  the  mover  of  the  bill, 
fiercely  brandishing  his  cane ;  "  J  assure  the  House  that 
The  Senator  can  reach  the  spot  every  day  in  the  year,  and 
I  will  chastise  you  if  you  deny  my  word  !"  "  The  Senator" 
was  a  large  steamboat,  which  plied  between  San  Francisco 
and  Sacramento.  Thereupon  the  other  apologized,  with- 
drew  his  remark,  and  the  bill  passed.  The  ranche  was 
immediately  staked  into  lots,  and  the  possessor  realized 
some  forty  or  fifty  thousand  dollars  by  the  sale  thereof. 

Summer  came,  Bear  Creek  dried  up,  and  the  humbug 
was  seen  by  everybody.  "  What  did  you  mean  by  saying 
that  The  Senator  could  get  here  every  day  in  the  year?" 
exclaimed  the  indignant  purchasers.  "  Why,'*  coolly 
answered  the  ex-Senator,  "  it  is  true :  the  Senator   who 


122  AT  HOMB  AND  ABBOAD. 

contradicted  me  can  get  here  at  any  time — what  is  to 
hinder  him  ?  I  never  said  a  steamboat  could  do  it  l** 
Having  thus  reconciled  the  swindle  to  his  conscience,  the 
gentleman  prudently  retired  from  California.  This  was 
told  me  by  two  fellow-passengers,  while  passing  the  spot. 

As  it  drew  toward  noon,  the  breeze  fell,  and  the  sun 
beat  fiercely  upon  our  heads.  The  temperature  was  at 
least  90**  in  the  shade — which,  for  the  19th  of  September, 
was  a  fair  degree  of  heat ;  though,  as  the  driver  said : 
"  This  here  ain't  a  circumstance  to  the  hot  days  in  June." 
"  How  hot  was  it  then  ?'» I  asked.  "  Why,''  said  he,  "  120* 
in  the  shade."  "  Impossible !"  "  Well,  it  wjow,  and  more*n 
that.  Lord!  how  the  horses  used  to  drop  dead  along  this 
road  !  The  leaves  jist  curled  up  in  the  heat,  and  the  trees 
looked  as  they  was  ready  to  take  fire.  The  wind  blowed 
from  the  south,  and  you'd  ha'  thought  a  piece  of  hot  sheet 
iron  was  held  before  your  face.  Why,  the  crows  couldn't 
fly,  but  jist  sot  on  the  branches ;  and  every  now  an  then 
one  would  tumble  ofi*,  dead  as  a  hammer."  "That's  so!" 
said  one  of  the  passengers ;  "  it  was  the  awfullest  heat  I 
ever  see.  The  ground  burnt  through  your  boots,  and  the 
sky  was  sort  o'  hazy,  like  the  world  was  nigh  bustin'  into 
a  blaze."  These  accounts  were  afterwards  corroborated 
by  others.  The  temperature  must  have  equalled  that  of 
the  Sahara — yet  the  effect  upon  human  life  seems  not  to 
have  been  so  fatal  as  some  of  our  "  heated  terms"  on  th 
Atlantic  Coast. 

The  Sacramento  Buttes— a  curious  isolated  group  of  hillsi 
which  form  a  landmark  for  near  a  hundred  miles  up  and 
down  the  valley — now  rose  blue  and  beautiful  befoie  us^ 


XEW   PlCTtJRES   FROM   CALIPOENIA.  128 

their  craggy  sides  tinted  with  rose-color  in  the  sunshine, 
From  the  topmost  peak,  which  is  about  twelve  hundred 
feet  aboAe  the  level  of  the  valley,  there  is  a  wonderful 
panorama,  in  clear  weather.  The  view  extends  from 
Monte  Diablo  in  the  south  to  the  solitary  Alpine  cone  of 
Shasta  in  the  north,  a  distance  of  more  than  two  hundred 
miles.  Lovely  little  dells  lie  between  the  bases  of  the 
group ;  and  the  citizens  of  Marysville,  only  eight  miles 
distant,  are  beginning  to  perceive  the  prudence  of  securing 
residences  in  a  spot  which  combines  so  many  natural 
advantages.  Here,  again,  there  is  the  basb  for  another 
Arcadian  day-dream. 

As  we  approached  the  Yuba  River,  the  country  became 
rolling,  the  road  a  fathomless  bed  of  dust — yet  this  was 
disregarded,  in  the  contemplation  of  the  superb  trees, 
studded  Avitli  growths  of  misletoe,  and  hung  with  a  gor- 
geous drapery  of  wild  grape-vines.  Where  the  land  had 
been  cleared,  there  were  fields  of  Indian  com  which  sur- 
passed anything  I  had  ever  seen.  The  average  height  of 
the  stalks  was  not  less  than  fifteen  feet,  and  the  size  and 
number  of  the  ears  was  in  proportion.  The  brick  blocks  of 
Marysville  now  appeared  in  front,  on  the  west  bank  of  the 
Yuba,  which  we  crossed  by  a  lofty  and  substantial  bridge. 

Marysville  is  the  best-built  town  of  its  size  in  California 
At  the  head  of  navigation  on  Feather  River,  it  occupies 
the  same  situation  with  regard  to  the  northern  mines  that 
Stockton  does  to  the  southera,  while  the  opening  of  Honey 
Lake  and  Pitt  River  valleys  insure  for  it  a  more  prosperoui 
future.  Its  founder,  Mr.  Fall,  who  is  still  the  largest  pro- 
pi  ietor,  is  one  of  the  few  men  who  made  a  lucky  hit  at  the 


124  AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

gtait,  and  kept  it.  He  was  absent  on  a  trip  to  Carsoi 
Valley  at  the  time  of  my  visit,  and  I  regretted  that  I  did 
not  see  his  garden,  which  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  in  the 
State.  Marysville  has  already  a  population  of  eight  thou- 
sand. It  is  laid  out  in  regular  squares,  the  houses  being 
mostly  of  brick,  flat-roofed,  and  two  stories  high.  The 
prevailing  red  tint  Ls  not  agreeable  to  the  eye ;  but  this 
will  probably  disappear  in  the  course  of  time.  The  situa- 
tion of  the  town  is  very  beautiful,  the  Yuba,  in  spite  of  its 
orange  tint,  being  a  lovely  stream,  not  yet  denuded  of  its 
timber,  through  the  openings  in  which  you  see  the  far 
peaks  of  the  Sierra  Nevada. 

My  performances  were  held  in  the  theatre,  which  was 
then  vacant.  Considering  the  fact  that  five  or  six  hundred 
of  the  principal  citizens  were  then  in  Sacramento,  attend- 
ing the  State  Fair,  the  attendance  was  very  good,  and  I 
was  gratified  at  seeing,  in  the  gallery,  quite  a  number  of 
flannel-shirted  miners.  One  circumstance  puzzled  me  at 
first.  After  I  had  been  discoursing  for  half  an  hour, 
several  gentlemen  got  up  and  left.  Presently,  another 
party  rose  and  retired  in  a  body.  Well,  thought  I,  they 
are  ccilainly  bored:  it  is  not  the  entertainment  they 
expected  :  they  have  been  accustomed  to  negro  minstrels, 
and  anything  of  a  serious  nature  is  tiresome  to  them. 
But,  to  my  surprise,  they  all  returned  in  five  minutes 
afterwards,  and  sat  quietly  nntil  the  close.  On  stating  this 
to  a  friend,  he  laughed.  "  Why,"  said  he,  "  didn't  you 
guess  it  ?  They  only  went  out  for  a  drink  P'*  I  after* 
ward  got  accustomed  to  this  practice,  as  it  happened 
Blmost  every  night.    The  innocence  with   which  it  wai 


NEW   PICTURES  FROM   CALIPORNIA.  12A 

ione  amused  me,  although  the  interruption  was  annoying. 
I  had  serious  thoughts  of  engaging  waiters,  in  felt  slippers, 
to  attend,  take  orders,  and  bring  to  each  thirsty  auditoi 
the  drink  he  desired.  In  other  respects,  the  Marysville 
ludience  was  very  agreeable — decidedly  more  warm  and 
genial  than  in  San  Francisco,  with  an  equally  intelligent 
attention. 


6. — Thb  Northern  Mines. 

f  HAD  made  an  engagement  with  a  literary  society  in  the 
town  of  Nevada,  high  up  in  the  mountains,  for  the  next 
evening ;  and  it  was  therefore  necessary  to  take  a  stage 
which  left  Marysville  at  three  in  the  morning.  The  driver 
cruelly  picked  us  up  first  of  all,  and  then  went  around  the 
town,  in  the  cold  morning  starlight,  calling  for  the  other 
passengers.  Two  or  three  miners  and  traders  and  a  Chi- 
nese woman  entered — the  latter  surrounded  with  a  hideous, 
jabbering  crowd  of  countrymen,  who  yelled  after  her 
adieux  which  sounded  more  like  curses.  Then  we  drove 
off  upon  the  dark  plain,  silent  and  uncommunicative  for  the 
first  two  hours.  The  dawn  came  as  we  were  passing 
through  the  oak  openings  at  the  base  of  the  foot-hills,  and 
evealed  to  us  the  bearded  faces  and  stalwart  forms  oppo- 
site, and  the  squat  yellow  figure  on  the  middle  seat,  with 
her  lantern,  tea-kettle,  paper-box,  and  various  other  arti- 
cles, tied  separately  in  dirty  handkerchiefs.  She  looked 
around  with  a  grin,  cackled  a  few  unknown  Avords,  and 
Uien  proceeded  to  roll   a   cigar,  strike  fire,  and   smoke 


126  .  ,         AT  HOME   AND   ABSOAO. 

Noticing  ray  wife,  slie  made  a  second  cigar,  and  offered  it 
to  her.  As  this  was  declined,  she  took  a  small  black  cake 
in  her  harpy  talons,  and  made  a  second  attempt  to  be 
friendly.  To  refuse,  without  an  open  manifestation  of  dis 
gust,  was  all  that  was  possibla 

By  sunrise,  we  were  toiling  up  and  down  a  rough,  side 
ling  road,  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Yuba.  I  looked  with 
great  interest  for  the  first  signs  of  gold-washing,  and  they 
were  soon  visible  in  the  bare,  yellow,  devastated  river-bed 
below  us.  Soon  after  entering  the  hills  we  reached  Long 
Bai',  a  mining-camp  which  extends  for  some  distance  along 
the  river.  Wooden  flumes,  raised  on  tall  tressels,  brought 
water  from  some  reservoir  above  to  the  diggings,  where  it 
fell  into  the  sluices  in  which  the  earth  is  washed.  The 
absence  of  any  appearance  of  permanent  settlement — the 
rough  board  shanties  in  which  the  miners  live — did  not^ve 
evidence  of  a  great  yield  of  gold.  In  fact,  they  were 
washing  the  same  bars  over  for  perhaps  the  fifth  or  sixth 
time.  Every  year  some  new  deposit  is  struck,  besides 
what  is  continually  brought  down  by  the  winter  floods ; 
but  the  chances  of  great  strikes  are  gradually  lessened. 
These  operations  are  now  carried  on  by  small  companies 
of  miners :  individual  labor,  which  was  the  rule  in  1849, 
has  almost  entirely  ceased. 

The  miners  were  just  turning  out  of  their  bunks,  and  the 
doors  of  their  shanties  being  open,  enabled  us  to  see 
how  rude  and  simple  are  their  habits  of  life.  They  lived, 
two  or  three  in  a  hut,  doing  their  own  cooking  and  house- 
keeping. Some  were  washing  their  eyes,  aiid  combing 
their  matted  hair :  some  kindling  fires  in  little  stone  ovens 


i,EW  PICTUBES   FROM   CALIFOBNIA.  127 

others  taking  a  morning  draught  at  the  ''*■  Motel  de  la 
France  /"  and  some  few  singing  songs  in  the  patois  of  the 
Canadian  voyageurs.  Rough,  ruddy  fellows  they  were, 
with  any  amount  of  animal  health  and  animal  appetites. 
Where  culture  is  engrafted  on  such  a  physical  stock,  the 
fruit  is — Men. 

Crossing  the  Yuba  by  a  species  of  floating  bridge,  we 
climbed  the  opposite  bank,  and  after  winding  among  the 
red,  dry-baked  hills  for  a  mile  or  two,  reached  Timbuctoo 
— a  place  which  has  recently  grown  into  notice  through  the 
hydraulic  mining  carried  on  there.  It  lies  in  a  narrow  glen, 
down  the  bottom  of  which  poured  a  stream  of  yellow  bat- 
ter, scarcely  to  be  recognized  as  water  after  it  has  been 
employed  in  raining.  The  village  consists  of  a  single  street, 
well-built,  though  wooden,  and  lively  and  cheerful  to  look 
upon.  "We  only  stopped  to  leave  the  mails,  and  then  drove 
on,  gradually  ascending,  to  the  Empire  Ranche,  two  miles 
further,  where  breakfast  awaited  us.  Fine  oak-trees,  a 
large  barn  and  stabling,  a  peach-orchard,  vineyard,  and 
melon  patch,  were  the  first  signs  of  permanent  settlement 
we  had  seen  since  entering  the  hills.  The  breakfast  was 
abundant  and  good,  and  there  was  a  marked  increase  of 
social  feeling  among  the  passengers,  afterwards. 

Beyond  this,  the  hills,  which  had  been  terribly  denuded 
of  timber,  retained  their  original  forests.  The  road  crossed 
several  spurs,  and  then  entered  a  long,  shallow  cation,  up 
♦fhich  we  toiled  in  heat  and  dust.  Blue  mountain-ranges 
gleamed  afar,  through  the  gaps  in  the  trees ;  the  clayey 
water  rushed  overhead  througli  the  flumes,  or  fell  in  turbid 
cascades  down  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  huge  freight  teams 


128  AT   UOUM   AND   AKBOAD. 

dra>i  a  by  long  strings  of  mules,  occasionally  blocked  oui 
way.  It  was  a  singular  mixture  of  savage  and  civilized 
Nature.  From  the  top  of  the  canon  we  descended  three 
or  four  miles  into  Penn»8  Valley,  a  rich,  circular  tract  of 
bottom  land,  studded  with  magnificent  trees,  and  already 
mapped  into  farms,  and  fenced.  Two  miles  beyond  this  ia 
Rough-and-Ready,  a  mining  camp  in  a  very  rich  ravine. 
It  had  recently  been  destroyed  by  fire :  half  of  it  consisted 
of  new,  uninhabited  shanties,  and  the  other  half  of  black- 
ened embers. 

Another  hour,  over  a  rolling,  well-timbered  region,  two 
thousand  foet  above  the  sea,  and  crossing  the  brow  of  the  hill, 
we  saw  a  large  town  below  us.  Blocks  of  brick  buildings, 
church  spires,  suburban  cottages  and  gardens,  gave  it  quite 
an  imposing  air — ^but  war  and  tempest  seemed  to  have 
passed  over  the  surrounding  landscape.  The  hills  were 
stripped  of  wood,  except  here  and  there  a  single  pine,  which 
stood  like  a  monumental  obelisk  amid  the  stump  head-stones 
of  its  departed  brethren :  the  bed  of  the  valley  was  torn 
ini,o  great  holes  and  furrows  ;  and  wherever  the  eye  turned, 
it  met  with  glaring  piles  of  red  earth,  like  redoubts  thrown 
up  in  haste  and  then  deserted.  This  was  Grass  Valley, 
famous  in  the  annals  of  mining :  and  such  are  the  ravages 
which  the  search  for  gold  works  on  the  fair  face  of  Nature. 

Descending  into  the  town,  we  found  macadamized  and 
watered  streets,  and  plank  sidewalks,  respectable  hotels, 
theatre,  express  offices,  and  all  other  signs  of  a  high  civili 
Ration.  Here  *he  young  woman  called  John  (every  Chi- 
naman, male  or  female,  is  called  "  John*'  in  California) 
left  us.     Mdls  were  delivered,  and  we  bowled  along  ovei 


NEW   PICTURES   FBOM   GALIFOBNIA.  129 

B  broad  turnpike  to  Nevada,  four  miles  farther.  Th« 
approach  to  the  town,  along  the  steep  bank  of  a  ravine,  is 
very  striking.  The  houses  rise  along  the  opposite  bank,  on 
Doth  sides  of  a  lateral  ravine,  sending  out  u-regular  arms 
ip  the  hills,  to  the  foot  of  a  conical  peak,  called  the  Sugai 
Loaf,  which  overlooks  it.  But  for  the  red  brick,  I  should 
compare  it  to  some  Syrian  city.  Around  it  there  is  a  bar- 
ren, desolated  space,  full  of  yawning  gaps,  and  piles  of 
naked  earth,  with  here  and  there  a  young  garden  inter- 
posed ;  and  over  all — ^like  a  raised  rim  to  the  basin  in  which 
it  lies — a  forest  of  pines.  The  place  is  a  little  larger  than 
Grass  Valley,  having  about  four  thousand  inhabitants. 

We  found  comfortable  quarters  in  Mr.  Lancaster's  fire- 
proof tavern.  The  afternoon  was  devoted  principally  to 
repose,  as  my  day's  work  had  to  be  done  in  the  evening. 
An  audience  of  more  than  three  hundred  assembled  in  the 
theatre,  which,  as  the  tickets  cost  a  dollar,  was  equivalent 
to  double  the  number  at  home.  With  the  exception  of  San 
Francisco,  the  attendance  was  the  best  I  found  in  Califor- 
nia. In  character,  the  people  resembled  the  communities 
of  the  Western  States — genial,  impulsive,  quick,  anticipative 
even.  Professional  talkers  will  understand  how  pleasant  is 
an  audience  of  this  character. 

Having  expressed  a  great  desire  to  get  a  sight  of  the 
«ntral  chain  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  Mr.  Rolfe  proposed  ai 
xcursion  along  the  main  ridge,  which  runs  parallel  witl 
he  South  Fork  of  the  Yuba,  up  to  the  Truckee  Pass.  We 
started  early  the  following  afternoon,  designing  to  reach  a 
point  some  eight  or  ten  miles  distant,  whence  the  highest 
peakH  of  the  northern  Sierra  could  be  seen.    Behind  Nevaddi 


ISO  AT  HOMB  XSO  ABBOAD. 

an  admirable  road,  cut  along  the  side  of  the  nill,  leads  off 
in  a  north-eastern  direction  for  two  miles,  gradually  mount- 
ing to  the  summit  of  the  ridge.  The  unbroken,  primitive 
forest  then  received  us.  Pillars  two  hundred  feet  high  and 
six  feet  in  diameter,  straight  as  a  lance,  and  tapering  as 
gracefully  as  the  shaft  of  the  areca  palm,  rose  on  all  sides: 
far  above  mingled  the  tufted  boughs,  admitting  only  chance 
beams  of  sunshine,  which  struck  in  slanting  lines  of  gold 
through  the  fragrant,  shadowy  air.  The  road  was  a  rough, 
rutty,  fathomless  bed  of  dust,  but  elsewhere  the  dry  earth 
was  hidden  under  a  carpet  of  yellow  ferns.  Where  the 
ridge  fell  off  on  either  side,  the  summits  of  the  trees  below 
formed  an  impervious  canopy  which  shut  out  the  distant 
view.  We  drove  for  several  miles  through  the  aisles  of 
this  grand  natural  cathedral,  before  which  the  pillared  hall 
of  Karnak  and  the  aspiring  arches  of  the  minster  of  Cologne 
sink  into  nothingness.  No  Doric  column  could  surpass  in 
beauty  of  proportion  those  stupendous  shafts.  They  are 
the  demigods  of  the  vegetable  world. 

Here  and  there  we  saw  a  small  clearing,  or  a  saw-mill — 
the  blasphemous  dragon  which  lays  waste  these  sacred  soli- 
tudes— or  a  tavern,  patronized  by  the  teamsters  who  tra- 
verse this  road  on  their  way  to  the  upper  diggings,  near 
the  source  of  the  Yuba.  Still  further  on,  we  were  surprised 
by  a  fierce  roaring  sound,  and  the  sight  of  scarlet  gleams 
of  fire,  flashing  out  of  the  shades.  The  giant  trunks  stood 
scornfully  in  the  midst  of  it,  secure  in  their  bulk,  but  the 
underwood  and  the  dead  boughs  which  had  fallen  snaj)peo 
and  crackled,  as  the  flames  leaped  upon  them.  We  drove 
through  the  midst  of  it,  and,  on  a  ferny  knoll  beyond,  saw 


NE^     PICTURES    FROM   CALIFORNIA.  131 

«rhence  it  originated.  A  company  of  Digger  Indians,  half 
naked,  lay  upon  the  ground.  They  had  been  burning  a 
dead  body,  and,  according  to  their  custom,  had  plastered 
their  hair  and  cheeks  with  a  mixture  of  pitch  and  the  fat 
rendered  out  of  the  dear  depaited,  as  a  token  of  sorrow 
During  the  performance  of  this  ceremony,  their  howlingi 
and  lamentations  are  frightful.  Those  whom  we  saw  had 
completed  their  task,  and  had  an  air  of  stupid  satisfaction, 
resulting  from  the  consciousness  of  having  done  their  duty. 
The  dust  raised  by  our  wheels  was  so  fine,  penetrating, 
and  suffocating,  that  the  excursion  became  a  torture  rather 
than  a  pleasure.  We,  therefore,  relinquished  the  idea  ot 
going  on  to  Gold  Hill — a  picturesque  mining-camp  on  a 
terrace  overhanging  tlie  river — and  halted  at  a  point  where 
the  ridge  turns  sharply  to  the  south,  allowing  a  wide  out- 
look to  the  north  and  east.  The  view  was  vast  in  extent, 
grand  and  savage  in  character,  yet  monotonous  in  form, 
lacking  the  usual  abruptness  and  picturesqueness  of  moun- 
tain scenery.  Directly  below  us  yawned  the  valley  of  the 
South  Fork,  at  least  two  thousand  feet  deep.  Opposite, 
rose  a  ridge  similar  to  that  on  which  we  stood,  dividing  the 
South  and  Middle  Forks — its  summit  presenting  an  almost 
even  line,  covered  with  dark  forests.  Over  this  a  few 
higher  peaks  lifted  themselves,  in  the  distance;  and  still 
further.  Pilot  Knob  and  the  other  summits  of  the  Sierra, 
beyond  Downieville.  Eastward  the  deep  gorge  vanished 
between  vapory  mountain-walls,  over  which  towered  the 
topmost  heights  between  us  and  the  Great  Basin  of  Utah, 
The  highest  peaks  were  about  ten  thousand  feet  above  the 
sea-level ;  yet,  greatly  to  our  disappointment,  no  snow  wai 


132  AT   HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

lo  be  seen.  The  unusual  heat  of  the  summer  had  denuded 
even  the  loftiest  summits,  and  they  stood  bare  and  broken, 
of  a  pale  violet  color,  like  the  dolomite  mountains  of  South 
©m  Tyrol. 

Returning  along  the  same  track,  we  emerged  irom  th 
forest  just  at  sunset,  and  halted,  involuntarily,  at  the  won- 
derful beauty  of  the  scene  before  us.  The  deep,  trough- 
like glen  down  which  our  road  lay,  slept  in  shadow  :  at  its 
mouth  Nevada,  with  her  encircling  hills,  burned  in  a  flush 
of  imperial  purple  light ;  while  the  mountains  of  the  Coast 
Range,  seventy  miles  away,  were  painted  in  rose-color, 
transparent  against  the  sunset.  I  know  of  but  one  pencil 
capable  of  reproducing  this  magic  illumination.  In  Spain, 
and  Sicily,  and  Syria,  I  have  never  seen  a  lovelier  effect  of 
color.  For  a  full  half-hour  the  glow  lingered,  as  if  reluc- 
tant to  fade  away  and  leave  to  us  the  unlovely  reality  of 
shanties,  shabby  houses,  heaps  of  dirt,  and  riddled  and  per- 
forated hills. 

While  in  Sacramento,  I  had  received  an  invitation  to 
spend  an  evening  in  Tirabuctoo,  and  on  my  way  to  Nevada, 
completed  the  arrangements  for  visiting  that  unknown  and 
mysterious  place.  It  involved  a  journey  of  twenty  miles 
over  the  road  I  had  already  travelled,  and  a  return  to  Ne- 
vada on  the  following  day ;  but  as  Timbuctoo  is  said  to  be 
the  grandest  example  of  hydraulic  mining  in  California,  I 
did  not  grudge  the  extra  travel.  Early  on  Monday  morn- 
ning  we  took  saddle-horses,  my  companion  being  ambitious 
to  gain  experience  in  an  art  new  to  her.  We  had  a  pair  of 
spirited  animals — almost  too  much  so,  in  fact,  for  such  a 
•ultry,  stifling  day — and  got  over  the  four  miles  to  Gra« 


ITEW  PICTURES  FBOM  CALIFOBNIA.  138 

Valley  iu  short  order.  Thence  to  Rouarh-and-Reacly  and 
Penn's  Valley,  all  went  well ;  but  as  the  sun  mounted 
higher,  and  the  dust  rose,  and  the  unaccustomed  arm  wea- 
ried of  the  check-rein,  the  inspiration  of  the  ride  flagged- 
and  never  was  haven  more  welcome  than  the  Empire 
Ranche,  two  miles  from  Timbuctoo. 

In  the  afternoon,  Mr.  Carpenter,  to  whom  I  was  indebtea 
for  the  opportunity  of  visiting  the  place,  accompanied  me 
to  view  the  mining  operations.  A  ridge  about  five  hundred 
feet  in  height  divides  the  glen  in  which  the  town  lies  from 
the  Ynba  River,  and  the  whole  of  this  ridge  from  the  sum- 
mit down  to  the  bed-rock,  contains  gold.  At  first  the  wash- 
ings were  confined  to  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  and  to 
Rose's  Bar,  on  the  Yuba.  After  the  richest  deposits  were 
exhausted,  short  drifts  were  carried  into  the  hills  at  their 
base,  and  it  was  finally  ascertained  that  if  any  plan  could 
be  devised  to  curtail  the  expense  of  labor,  the  entire  hill 
might  be  profitably  washed  down.  In  this  manner  origin- 
ated what  is  called  hydraulic  mining — a  form  of  working, 
which,  I  believe,  is  not  known  in  any  other  part  of  the 
world. 

The  undertakings  lor  the  purpose  of  procuring  a  steady 
supply  of  water  through  the  dry  seasons,  commenced  ac 
early  as  1860.  It  was  found  that  the  deposits  of  gold  were 
not  only  on  the  river-bars,  but  that  scarcely  a  valley,  or 
glen,  or  dip  among  the  hills,  throughout  the  whole  extent 
of  the  gold  region,  was  barren  of  the  precious  metal.  That 
jhese  might  be  worked,  the  rivers  were  tapped  high  up  ir 
the  mountains,  and  ditches  carried  along  the  intervening 
ridges,  raised  on  gigantic  flumes  wherever  a  depressioc 


184  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

occurred,  from  distances  varying  from  fifteen  to  forty  mile& 
Here  was  immediately  a  new  field  for  enterprise.  Watei 
companies  were  formed  for  the  construction  of  these  vast 
works,  and  the  ditches  led  so  as  to  supply  the  greatest  num- 
ber of  mining  localities.  The  water  is  furnished  at  so  much 
per  inch — generally  at  very  exorbitant  rates — and  is  there- 
fore a  surer  source  of  profit  than  mining  itself.  Nothing 
seemed  to  me  more  remarkable,  in  travelling  through  the 
gold  region,  than  the  grand  scale  on  which  these  operations 
are  conducted. 

The  ditch  which  supplies  Timbuctoo  is  thirty-five  miles 
long,  and  was  constructed  at  a  cost  of  $600,000.  Yet,  on 
this  capital  it  yields  an  annual  dividend  of  at  least  forty  per 
cent.  Some  ditches  are  still  more  profitable  than  this,  and 
it  may  be  said  that  none  of  them  has  failed  to  pay  hand- 
somely, except  through  mismanagement.  One  of  the  com- 
panies at  Timbuctoo  uses  water  to  the  value  of  $100  every 
day.  Near  the  end  of  the  ditch  there  is  a  reservoir,  into 
whicn  the  stream  is  turned  at  night,  in  order  to  create  a 
reserve  for  any  emergency. 

Following  a  line  of  fluming  along  the  top  of  the  ridge, 
we  presently  came  to  a  great  gulf,  or  gap,  eaten  out  of  the 
southern  side  of  the  hill.  A  wall  of  bare  earth,  more  than 
a  nunared  feet  high,  yawned  below  our  feet,  and  two 
■treams  of  water,  pouring  over  the  edge,  thimdered  upon 
he  loose  soil  below,  which  was  still  further  broken  up  by 
lets  trom  hose  Avhich  the  workmen  held.  After  the  water 
had  become  thoroughly  commingled  with  earth,  it  was 
again  gathered  into  a  stream  and  conducted  into  a  long 
ilnice,  in  the  bottom    of  which  grooves    .^f  quicksilvei 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM    CALIFORNIA.  136 

3aught  the  scattered  grains  of  gold.  Nothing  could  be 
more  simple  than  the  process.  The  water  of  itself  ate  chan 
nels  into  the  lofty  wall  of  earth,  and  then  pulverized  and 
dissolved  the  dirt  it  had  brought  down.  Commencing  at 
the  base  of  the  hill,  the  soil  has  thus  been  gradually  eaten 
away  to  the  depth  of  two  hundred  yards,  down  to  the  bed 
rock,  leaving  a  face  exposed,  in  some  places  150  feet  in  per 
pendicular  height.  The  whole  of  the  immense  mass  of 
earth  which  has  been  displaced  has  passed  through  the 
sluice,  deposited  its  gold,  and  been  carried  down  by  the 
waste  water  to  clog  the  currents  of  the  Yuba,  the  Feather, 
and  the  Sacramento. 

On  the  northern  side,  a  similar  process  was  in  operation, 
and  the  two  excavations  had  approached  each  other  so 
nearly,  th"at  a  few  months  only  were  requisite  to  break  the 
back  of  the  hill.  Crossing  the  narrow  bridge  between,  I 
approached  the  end  of  the  ridge,  and  found  myself  on  the 
edge  of  a  third,  and  still  grander  work  I  Thousands  on 
thousands  of  tons  had  been  removed,  leaving  an  immense 
semicircular  cavity,  with  a  face  nearly  150  feet  in  height. 
From  the  summit,  five  streams  fell  in  perpendicular  lines 
of  spray,  trampling  and  boiling  in  cauldrons  of  muddy  foam 
as  they  mingled  with  the  loose  dirt  at  the  bottom.  While 
T  gazed,  a  mass  of  earth,  weighing,  at  least,  five  tons,  de- 
tached itself  from  the  top,  between  the  channels  cut  by  two 
of  those  streams,  and  fell  with  a  thundering  crash,  which 
made  the  hill  tremble  to  its  base.  Another  and  anotbei 
slide  suc/eeded,  while  the  pigmies  below,  as  if  rejoicing  in 
the  ruin,  sprang  upon  them  with  six-inch  jets  from  the  hose 
serpents  which  coiled  around  the  bank,  and  reduced  th« 


186  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

fragments  to  dust.  Beyond  this  scene  of  chaos,  the  watei 
gathered  again,  and  through  the  straight  shiice — ^like  a  giant 
bleeding  to  death  from  a  single  vein — the  mountain  washed 
itself  away. 

It  seemed  a  work  of  the  Titans.     When  I  saw  what  the 

original  extent  of  the  hill  had  been how  certainly  the 

wliole  ridge,  which  rose  so  defiant,  as  if 'secure  of  enduring 
until  the  end  of  the  world,  was  doomed  to  disappear — ^how 
the  very  aspect  of  Nature  would.be  in  time  transformed  by 
such  simple  agents  as  this  trough  of  water,  and  those  three 
flannel-shirted  creatures  with  their  hose — ^I  acknowledged 
that  there  might  be  a  grandeur  in  gold-mining  beyond  that 
of  the  building  of  the  Pyramids. 

Some  fascination  must  be  connected  with  this  labor,  or 
men  would  not  trifle  so  recklessly  with  the  forces  they 
attack.  Scarcely  a  week  passed  without  some  report  of 
workmen  being  buried  under  the  falling  masses  of  earth. 
Though  continually  warned — ^though  familiar  with  the  dan- 
ger from  long  experience — ^they  become  so  absorbed  in  the 
work  of  undermining  the  slippery  bluffs,  that  they  gradually 
approach  nearer  and  nearer;  the  roar  of  the  water  drowns 
the  threatening  hiss  of  the  relaxing  soil — down  comes  the 
avalanche,  and,  if  the  man's  foot  is  not  as  quick  as  his  eye, 
he  is  instantly  crushed  out  of  existence.  In  descending  to 
the  village,  I  followed  two  miners,  taking  a  path  which  led 
downward,  on  the  top  of  a  narrow  wall,  left  standing  be- 
ween  the  two  excavations  on  the  southern  side.  In  some 
places,  the  top  was  not  more  than  six  feet  wide,  and  the 
appearance  of  the  loose,  graA'elly  soil,  dropping  straight 
down  a  hundred  feet  on  either  hand,  threatening  to  givi 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  131 

way  beneath  my  weight,  was  not  calculated  to  inspire  con« 
fideuce.  Seven  days  afterward,  the  entire  mass  fell  (fortu 
uately  in  the  night),  with  a  crash  that  jarred  the  earth  for 
a  mile  around. 

In  Mr.  Carpenter's  oflSce,  I  found  a  choice  collection  of 
standard  works — Ruskin,  Coleridge,  Emerson,  Goethe,  Mrs. 
Somerville,  and  others,  whom  one  would  not  expect  to  find 
in  the  midst  of  such  barren  material  toil.  I  also  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a  miner — a  hired  laborer — who  had  sent 
all  the  way  to  Boston  for  a  copy  of  Tennyson's  "  Idyls," 
knew  "In  Memoriam"  by  heart,  and  was  an  enthusiastic 
admirer  of  Mrs.  Browning.  One  of  my  first  visitors,  on 
reaching  San  Francisco,  was  an  old  Oregon  farmer,  who 
called  to  know  whether  I  had  ever  seen  the  Brownings — 
what  was  their  personal  appearance— what  sort  of  a  man 
was  Tennyson,  also  Longfellow,  Whittier,  and  various 
other  poets.     Verily,  no  true  poet  need  despair— 

"  His  words  are  driven 
like  flower-seeds  by  the  far  winds  sown, 
Where'er,  beneath  the  sky  of  hearen, 
The  birds  of  Fame  have  flown" — 

and,  also,  where  such  birds  have  not  flown.  If  I  knew,  as 
Tennyson  does,  that  a  poem  of  mine  made  an  imprisoned 
sailor,  in  the  long  Arctic  night,  shed  teare,  I  would  smile 
upon  the  critic  who  demonstrated,  by  the  neatest  process 
of  logic,  that  there  was  no  veritable  afflatus  to  be  found 
in  me. 

The  next  day  we  returned  to  Nevada — my  coraj  anion, 
much  le.=8  enthusiastic  than  before,  taking  the  stage,  while 


138  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

I  galloped  back  with  a  led  horse  attached  to  my  right  arm 
The  day  was  overcast,  with  a  presentiment  of  ill  in  the 
atmosphere.  It  was  that  anxious,  oppressed,  congested 
feeling,  which  Nature  often  experiences  before  a  rain,  when 
life  looks  cheerless,  and  hope  dies  in  the  sonl  of  man. 
Anywhere  else  I  should  have  laid  my  hand  on  The  Book, 
and  affirmed  that  rain  would  come — and  even  here,  rain 
did  come.  I  did  not  believe  my  ears,  when  I  heard  the 
pattering  in  the  night — ^I  could  scarcely  believe  my  eyes, 
when  I  looked  abroad  in  the  morning,  and  saw  the  dust 
laid,  the  trees  washed  and  glittering,  and  the  sky  as  clear 
and  tranquil  a  blue  as — no  matter  whose  eye.  We  were 
to  go  to  North  San  Juan,  an  enterprising  little  place  on 
the  Middle  Yuba,  ten  miles  off;  and,  in  spite  of  bruised 
bones,  there  was  no  thought  of  fatigue.  With  the  nelp  of 
that  exquisite  air,  we  could  have  climbed  Chimborazo. 

This  time,  however,  it  was  a  light,  open  buggy  and  a 
capital  black  horse.  I  have  rarely  seen  better  or  more 
intelligent  horses  than  there  are  in  Califoniia.  Probably 
the  long  journey  across  the  Plains  sifted  the  stock,  the 
poorer  specimens  dropping  by  the  way,  as  many  humans 
do,  blood  and  character  holding  out  to  the  end.  Be  this 
as  it  may,  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  no  horse  there  to 
whom  I  would  not  willingly  have  done  a  personal  favor. 
Merrily  we  rattled  up  the  planked  street  of  Nevada,  around 
the  base  of  the  Sugar  Loaf,  past  the  mouths  of  mining 
drifts,  and  the  muddy  tails  of  sluices,  and  into  a  rolling 
upland  region,  about  half  stripped  of  its  timber,  where 
every  little  glen  or  hollow  was  turned  upside  down  by  the 
miners.     After  a  drive  of  three  or  four  miles,  the  bluenes* 


NKW   PICTURES    FBOAI    CALLFOBNIA.  189 

of  the  air  disclosed  a  gulf  in  front,  and  we  prepared  for  a 
descent  to  the  bed  of  the  South  Yuba. 

It  was  a  more  difficult  undertaking  than  we  were  aware 
of.  The  road  plunged  down  the  steep  at  a  pitch  fright- 
ful to  behold,  turning  and  winding  among  the  ledges  in 
such  a  manner  that  one  portion  of  it  often  overhung 
another.  Broad  folds  of  shade  were  flung  into  the  gulf 
from  the  summits  far  above,  but  the  opposite  side,  ascend- 
ing even  more  abruptly,  lay  with  its  pines  and  large-leaved 
oaks,  sparkling,  in  the  clearest  sunlight.  Our  horse  was 
equal  to  the  emergency.  Planting  himself  firmly  on  his 
fore-feet,  with  erect,  attentive  ears,  he  let  us  carefully,  step 
by  step,  down  the  perilous  slopes.  With  strong  harness, 
there  is  really  no  danger,  and  one  speedily  gets  accustomed 
to  such  experiences. 

The  northern  bank,  as  beautifully  diversified  with  pictur« 
esque  knolls  and  glens  as  the  rapidity  of  the  descent  would 
allow,  confronted  us  with  an  unbroken  climb  of  a  mile  and 
a  half.  Luckily  we  met  no  down-coming  team  on  the  way, 
for  there  was  no  chance  of  passing.  At  the  summit,  where 
there  is  a  little  mining-camp  called  Montezuma,  we  again 
entered  on  that  rolling  platfoiTn,  which,  like  the  Jjdds  of 
Norway,  forms  the  prominent  feature  of  this  part  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada — the  beds  of  the  rivers  lying  at  an  average 
depth  of  two  thousand  feet  below  the  level  of  the  inter 
vening  regions.  Looking  eastward,  we  beheld  a  single 
peak  of  the  great  central  chain,  with  a  gleaming  snow-field 
on  its  northern  side.  Montezuma  has  a  tavern,  two  stores, 
and  a  cluster  of  primitive  habitations.  The  genus  "  loafer" 
b  also  found — no  country,  in  fact,  is  so  new  that  it  doei 


140  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

not  flourish  there.  Far  and  wide  the  country  is  covered 
with  giant  pines,  and  not  a  day  passes  but  some  of  them 
fall.  They  are  visibly  thinning,  and  in  a  few  years  more, 
this  district  will  be  scorched  and  desolate.  It  is  true 
young  trees  are  starting  up  everywhere,  but  it  will  be 
centuries  before  they  attain  the  majesty  of  the  present 
forests. 

Pursuing  our  winding  way  for  three  miles  more  through 
the  woods,  we  saw  at  last  the  dark-blue  walls  of  the 
Middle  Yuba  rise  before  us,  and  began  to  look  out  for  San 
Juan.  First  we  came  to  Sebastapol  (!),  then  to  some  other 
incipient  village,  and  finally  to  our  destination.  North  San 
Juan  is  a  small,  compact  place,  lying  in  a  shallow  dip 
among  the  hills.  Its  inhabitants  prosecute  both  drift  and 
hydraulic  mining,  with  equal  energy  and  success.  As  at 
Tirabuctoo,  the  whole  mass  of  the  hill  between  the  town 
and  the  river  is  gold-bearing,  and  enormous  cavities  have 
been  washed  out  of  it.  The  water  descends  from  the  flumes 
in  tubes  of  galvanized  iron,  to  which  canvas  hose-pipes, 
six  inches  in  diameter,  are  attached,  and  the  force  of  the 
jets  which  play  against  the  walls  of  earth  is  really  terrific. 
The  dirt,  I  was  informed,  yields  but  a  moderate  profit  at 
present,  but  grows  richer  as  it  approaches  the  bed  rock. 
As  each  company  has  enough  material  to  last  for  years,  the 
ultimate  result  of  their  operations  is  sure  to  be  very  pro- 
fitable. In  the  course  of  time,  the  very  ground  on  which 
the  village  stands  will  be  washed  away.  We  passed  some 
pleasant  cottages  and  gardens  which  must  be  moved  in 
two  or  three  years.  The  only  rights  in  the  gold  regiob 
are  those  of  miners.    The  only  inviolable  property  is  a 


NEW   PIGTUKES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  14i 

•*  claim."  Houses  must  fall,  fields  be  ravaged,  improve- 
ments  of  all  sorts  swept  away,  if  the  miner  sees  fit — there 
is  no  help  for  it. 

The  next  morning,  we  drove  back  (o  Nevada  betimes, 
n  order  to  reach  Grass  Valley  before  evening.  Before 
aking  leave  of  the  pleasant  little  town,  where  we  had 
spent  three  delightful  days,  I  must  not  omit  to  mention 
our  descent  into  the  Nebraska  Mine,  on  the  northern  side 
of  Manzanita  Hill.  This  is  as  good  an  example  of  success- 
ful drift  raining  as  can  readily  be  found,  and  gave  me  a 
new  insight  into  the  character  of  the  gold  deposits.  All 
the  speculations  of  the  early  miners  were  wholly  at  fault, 
and  it  is  only  within  the  last  four  or  five  years  that  any- 
thing like  a  rational  system  has  been  introduced — that  is, 
BO  far  as  so  uncertain  a  business  admits  of  a  system. 
Hydraulic  mining,  as  I  have  before  stated,  is  carried  on  in 
those  localities  where  gold  is  diffused  through  the  soil; 
but  drift  mining  seeks  the  "  leads'' — mostly  the  subterra- 
nean beds  of  pre-Adamite  rivers — where  it  is  confined 
within  narrow  channels,  offering  a  more  contracted  but 
far  richer  field. 

These  ancient  river-beds  are  a  singular  feature  of  the 
geology  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  They  are  found  at  a 
height  of  two  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  or  more,  often 
cutting  at  right  angles  through  the  present  axis  of  the 
hills,  jumping  over  valleys  and  re-appearing  in  the  heights 
opposite.  One  of  them,  called  the  "Blue  Lead,"  cele- 
brated  for  its  richness,  has  been  thus  traced  for  more  than 
a  hundred  miles.  The  breadth  of  the  channels  varies 
greatly,  but  they  are  always  very  distinctly  marked  by  the 


142  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

bluff  banks  of  earth,  on  each  side  of  the  sandy  bed 
Their  foundation  is  the  primitive  granite — upon  which, 
and  in  the  holes  and  pockets  whereof,  the  gold  is  most 
abundant.  The  usual  way  of  mining  is,  to  sink  a  shaft  to 
the  bed-rock,  and  then  send  out  lateral  drifts  in  search  of 
the  buried  river.  The  Nebraska  Company  at  Nevada  haa 
been  fortunate  enough  to  strike  a  channel  several  hundred 
feet  wide,  and  extending  for  some  distance  diagonally 
through  the  hill.  Until  this  lead  was  struck,  the  expenses 
were  very  gi'eat,  and  a  considerable  capital  was  sunk ;  but 
now  the  yield  averages  ten  thousand  dollars  per  week,  at 
least  three-fourths  of  which  is  clear  profit. 

One  of  the  proprietors,  who  accompanied  us,  was  kind 
enough  to  arrange  matters  so  that  we  should  get  a  most 
satisfactory  view  of  the  mine.  After  having  been  arrayed, 
in  the  office,  in  enormous  India-rubber  boots,  corduroy 
jackets,  and  sou'-westers,  without  distinction  of  sex,  we 
repaired  to  the  engine-house,  where  the  sands  of  the  lost 
Pactolus  are  drawn  up  again  to  the  sunshine,  after  the 
lapse  of  perhaps  five  hundred  thousand  years.  Here,  my 
Eurydice  was  placed  in  a  little  box,  from  which  the  dirt 
had  just  been  emptied,  packed  in  the  smallest  coil  to  avoid 
the  danger  of  striking  the  roof  on  the  way  down,  and, 
at  the  ringing  of  a  bell,  was  whisked  from  my  eyes  and 
swallowed  up  in  the  darkness.  1  was  obliged  to  wait  until 
the  next  box  came  up,  when,  like  Orpheus,  I  followed 
ner  to  the  shades,  A  swift  descent  of  six  hundred  feet 
brought  me  to  the  bed-rock,  where  I  found  those  who  had 
gone  before,  standing  in  a  passage  only  four  or  five  feet  high 
candles  in  their  hands,  and  their  feet  in  a  pool  of  water. 


KEW   PICTURES   PROM   CALIFORNIA.  14P 

Square  shafts,  carefully  boxed  in  with  strong  timbers, 
Dranched  off  before  us  through  the  heart  of  the  hill.  Along 
the  bottom  of  each  was  a  tram-way,  and  at  intervals  of  five 
minutes,  cars  laden  with  gray  river-sand  were  rolled  up, 
hitched  to  the  rope,  and  speedily  drawn  to  the  surface 
Following  our  conductor,  we  traced  some  of  these  shafts 
to  the  end,  where  workmen  were  busy  excavating  the  close 
packed  sand,  and  filling  the  cars.  The  company  intend 
running  their  drifts  to  the  end  of  their  claim,  when  they 
will  commence  working  back  toward  the  beginning,  clean- 
ing out  the  channel  as  they  go.  Probably,  three  or  four 
years  will  be  required  to  complete  the  task,  and  if  they 
are  not  very  unreasonable  in  their  expectations,  they  may 
retire  from  business  by  that  time.  We  sat  down  for  half 
an  hour,  with  tlie  unstable,  sandy  ceiling  impending  over 
our  heads,  and  watched  the  workmen.  They  used  no 
other  implements  than  the  pick  and  shovel,  and  the  only 
difficulty  connected  with  their  labor  was  the  impossibility 
of  standing  upright.  The  depth  of  the  sand  varied  from 
three  to  six  feet,  but  the  grains  of  gold  were  scantily  distri- 
buted through  the  upper  layers.  In  one  place,  where  the 
bed-rock  was  exposed,  we  saw  distinctly  the  thick  deposits 
of  minute  shining  scales,  in  situ. 

The  air  was  very  close  and  disagreeable,  and  the  unro- 
Heved  stooping  posture  so  tiresome,  that  we  were  not 
Borry  when  the  guide,  having  scraped  up  a  panful  of  tlie 
bottom  sand,  conducted  us  by  watery  ways,  to  the  entrance 
shaft,  and  restored  us  to  daylight.  The  sand,  on  reaching 
the  surface,  is  tilted  down  an  opening  in  the  floor,  and  is 
instantly  played  upon  by  huge  jets  of  water,  which  sweep 


144  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD, 

it  into  a  long  sluice.  Here  it  is  still  further  agitated  bj 
means  of  riffles  across  the  bottom,  and  the  gold  is  caught 
in  grooves  filled  with  quicksilver.  Every  week,  the 
amalgam  thus  produced  is  taken  out  and  assayed.  Tho 
tailings  of  these  sluices  are  frequently  corraled  (a  Califor 
nia  term  for  "  herded"  or  "  collected"),  and  run  through 
second  sluice,  or  turned  into  some  natural  ravine,  which  is 
washed  out  twice  a  year.  In  spite  of  this,  a  considerable 
percentage  of  the  gold,  no  doubt,  escapes.  There  is  a 
gentleman  in  Nevada,  who  owns  a  little  gully,  through 
which  runs  the  waste  of  a  drift  on  the  hill  above.  He  had 
the  sagacity  to  put  down  a  sluice  and  insert  quicksilver, 
thinking  sufficient  gold  might  be  left  in  the  sand  to  pay  for 
the  experiment ;  and  his  net  profits,  from  this  source, 
amount  to  fifteen  thousand  dollars  a  year. 

The  pan  of  dirt  brought  up  with  us,  having  been  skil- 
fully washed  in  the  old-fashioned  way,  produced  a  heap  of 
mustard-seed  grains,  to  the  value  of  five  or  six  dollars, 
which  was  courteously  presented  to  my  wife  as  a  souvenir 
of  her  visit.  Those  who  predict  the  speedy  failure  of  the 
gold  of  California,  do  not  know  what  wonderful  subterra* 
nean  store-houses  of  the  precious  metal  still  lie  untouched. 
The  river-bars  were  but  as  windfalls  from  the  tree. 


7. — Tbavelltng  in  the  Sibbka  Nevada. 

San  Juan  was  the  northern  limit  of  our  mountdn  wan 
derings.  1  then  turned  southward — ^having  so  disposed  of 
my  time,  that  a  fortnight  would  be  devoted  to  the  mining 


NEW   PICTUEES   FROM   CALTPOENIA.  145 

regions  between  the  Yuba  and  the  Stanislaus.    Leaving 
Nevada  on  Thursday  afternoon,  we  drove  over  to  Grass 

Valley,  where  Mr.  E had  arranged  for  my  discourse  in 

he  theatre  that  evening.  I  found  that  the  announcement 
had  been  made  with  more  zeal  than  modesty.  When  that 
gentleman  asked  me,  before  starting  on  his  journey  of  pre 
liminaries  :  "  What  shall  I  put  on  the  posters  in  addition 
to  your  name  ?"  I  earnestly  charged  him  to  put  nothing 
at  all.  "  If  the  subject  of  the  lecture  will  not  attract  audi- 
tors, I  must  do  without  them ;  and  I  shall  never  be  guilty 
of  blowing  my  own  trumpet."  I  leave  the  reader  to  ima- 
gine my  feelings,  when,  on  entering  Grass  Valley,  the 
colossal  words,  "The  world-renowned  traveller  and  his- 
torian ! ! !"  stared  at  me  from  every  blank  wall.  And  so  it 
was  wherever  I  went.  My  agent's  indiscreet  zeal  made  me 
appear,  to  the  public,  not  only  as  a  monstrous  self-glorifier. 
but  also  a8  arrogating  to  myself  a  title  to  which  I  had  no 
claim.  "  The  printers  would  have  it  so,"  was  his  meek 
excuse. 

Gt^f  Valley  and  Nevada,  being  only  four  miles  apart, 
and  very  nearly  of  the  same  size  and  importance,  are,  ol 
course,  deadly  rivals.  Curiously  enough,  this  fact  was  the 
occasion  of  some  pecuniary  detriment  to  myself.  The  cir- 
cumstance was,  at  the  same  time,  laughable  and  vexatious. 
In  the  evening,  shortly  before  the  appointed  hour,  a  gen- 
tleman approached  me  with  a  mysterious  air,  and,  after 
some  beating  about  an  invisible  bush,  finally  asked,  plumply : 
"  Are  you  going  to  lecture  to-night  for  the  benefit  of  the 
Nevada  people  ?"  "  What  do  you  mean  ?"  I  exclaimed,  in 
great  astonishment.    "  Why,"  said  he,  "  it  is  reported  that 


146  AT   HOME   AXD    ABROAD. 

the  Sodety  in  Nevada  has  engaged  you  to  come  here,  ae 
if  on  your  own  account,  so  that  we  sha'n't  know  anything 
about  it,  and  they  are  to  have  the  profits  I"  "  What  do 
you  take  me  for  ?"  I  asked,  indignant  at  such  a  mean  sua- 
picion  ;  "  but  even  if  J  were  capable  of  it,  the  Nevada  peo- 
ple are  above  such  trickery."  "  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  will 
hurry  out  and  correct  the  impression,  as  far  as  possible; 
for  it  is  going  to  prevent  scores  of  people  from  coming  to 
hear  you." 

My  next  point  was  Forest  Hill,  a  new  mining  camp, 
3ituated  on  the  left  ridge  between  the  North  and  Middle 
Forks  of  the  American  River.  The  distance  was  more  than 
hirty  miles,  over  a  very  wild  and  broken  portion  of  the 
mountains,  and  I  was  obliged  to  hire  a  two-horse  buggy 
and  driver,  at  an  expense  of  $35  for  the  trip.  A  miner 
from  Michigan  Bar,  returning  homeward,  also  joined  us, 
and  his  knowledge  of  the  road  proved  indispensable.  We 
took  an  eastward  course  on  leaving  Grass  Valley,  crossing 
bleak,  disforested  hills,  where  the  dust  was  frightfully  deep 
and  dry  ;  then,  approaching  Buena  Vista  Ranche,  plunged 
by  degrees  into  the  woods,  where  the  air  was  cool  and  bal- 
Bamic,  and  the  burnt  ground  was  hidden  under  a  golden 
plumage  of  ferns.  The  road  at  last  dropped  into  a  linked 
succession  of  dells,  which  enchanted  us  with  their  beauty. 
The  giant  pillars  of  the  forest  rose  on  all  sides,  but  here  and 
there  the  pines  fell  back,  leaving  grassy  knolls  dotted  with 
elumps  of  oak,  or  green  meadows  fiinged  with  laurel  and 
buckeye,  or  tangled  masses  of  shrubbery  and  vines.  There 
were  also  cottages  and  gardens,  secluded  in  these  Happy 
Valleys,  where,  one  sighed  to  think,  care,  and  pain,  and 


NXW  PICTURES  FROM  CALIFORNIA.  14V 

lorrow,  come  as  readily  as  to  the  bleakest  moor  or  the 
rudest  sea-shore. 

For  four  or  five  miles  we  drove  merrily  onward  through 
that  Arcadian  realm.  The  blue  sky  shone  overhead,  the 
pines  sang  in  the  morning  wind,  the  distant  mouutainf 
veiled  themselves  in  softer  purple,  and  the  exquisite  odors 
of  bay  and  pine,  and  dry,  aromatic  herbs  gave  sweetness  to 
the  air.  Then  the  scene  became  wilder,  a  rugged  canon 
received  us — a  gulf  opened  in  fronf — broken,  wooded  steeps 
rose  opposite,  and  we  commenced  the  descent  to  Bear 
Creek,  the  first  of  the  valleys  to  be  crossed.  It  was,  how- 
ever, an  easy  task,  compared  with  that  of  the  South  Yuba, 
The  road  was  stony  and  sideling,  to  be  sure,  but  not  more 
than  half  a  mile  in  descent. 

At  the  bottom  was  a  bridge — useless  in  the  dry  season — 
with  a  toll  of  a  dollar  and  a  half  at  the  further  end.  A 
ruddy,  bustling  woman,  who  kept  the  toll-house  and  accom- 
panying bar-room,  received  us  with  great  cordiality.  Hear- 
ing the  driver  address  me  by  name,  she  exclaimed :  "  Why, 
are  you  Mr.  Taylor  ?  Excuse  me  for  not  knoAving  you  I 
And  that  is  your  wife,  I  suppose — how  do  you  do,  Mrs. 
Taylor  ?  Won't  you  have  a  bunch  of  grapes  ?"  Into  the 
house  she  popped,  and  out  again,  with  a  fine  cluster  of 
black  Hamburgs.  "  Now  then,"  she  continued,  "  since  we 
know  one  another,  you  must  come  and  see  me  often." 
"  With  pleasure,"  said  I ;  "  and  you  must  return  the  visit, 
though  it's  rather  a  long  way."  "  Oh,  I  don't  mind  that," 
she  rejoined  ;  "  but  you  must  stop  longer  the  next  time  you 
come  by" — which  I  readily  promised.  Really,  thought  I 
AS  we  drove  away,  this  is  fame  to  some  purpose.    How 


148  AT  HOHK  AND  ABBOAD. 

friendly  this  woman  became,  as  soon  as  she  fomid  out  wb«i 
I  was!  How  much  she  must  admire  my  writings !  What 
a  sublime  contempt  she  has  for  time  and  space— inviting  ua 
to  come  over  often^  and  visit  her  I  My  complacent  reflec- 
tions were  interrupted  by  a  chuckle  from  the  driver 
"  Well,"  said  he,  "  the  old  lady's  rather  took  in.  She 
thinks  you're  Mr.  Taylor,  that  lives  up  t'other  side  o'  the 
Buenu  Vista  Ranche  I" 

Regaining  the  summit  on  the  southern  side,  we  foimd  a 
rolling  country,  ruder  and  more  broken  than  that  we  had 
passed  through,  and  in  half  an  hour  more  reached  a  large 
mining  camp,  called  Illinoistown.  It  was  eleven  o'clock, 
and  we  determined  to  push  on  to  Iowa  Hill,  eight  or  nine 
miles  further,  for  dinner.  As  we  approached  the  North 
Fork  of  the  American,  a  far  grander  chasm  than  any  we 
had  yet  encountered  yawned  before  us.  The  earth  fell 
sheer  away  to  an  unknown  depth  (for  the  bottom  was  invi- 
sible), while  a  mighty  mountain  wall,  blue  with  the  heated 
haze  of  noonday,  rose  beyond,  leaning  against  the  sky. 
Far  to  the  east,  a  vision  of  still  deeper  gorges,  overhung 
by  Alpine  peaks,  glimmered  through  the  motionless  air. 
We  had  an  uninterrupted  descent  of  two  miles,  and  a  climb 
of  equal  length  on  a  road  hacked  with  infinite  labor  along 
the  sides  of  the  steeps,  and  necessarily  so  narrow  that  there 
were  but  few  points  where  vehicles  could  pass.  It  was  not 
ong  before  we  arrived  at  a  pitch  so  abrnpt  that  the  horses, 
with  all  their  good- will,  could  not  hold  back ;  we  alighted 
and  walked,  enjoying  the  giddy  views  into  the  abyss,  which 
enlarged  with  every  turn  of  the  road.  The  muddy  river 
was  already  in  sight,  and  the  bottom  seemed  not  far  distant^ 


NEW  PICTURES   FEOM   GALIEOBNIA.  149 

when  three  heavy  teams  emerged  from  around  a  corner, 
dragging  their  slow  length  up  the  height.  Our  driver 
selected  the  widest  part  of  the  road,  drove  to  the  edge,  and 
ran  his  near  wheels  into  the  outside  rut,  where  they  held 
firm,  while  the  off  portion  of  the  vehicle  dropped  over  the 
edge,  and  remained  thus,  half-suspended.  There  was  barelj 
space  for  the  teams  to  graze  past.  We  reached  the  bottom 
with  tottering  knees,  and  faces  plastered  with  a  thick  mix- 
ture of  dust  and  sweat. 

The  bridge-toll  was  two  dollars — which,  however,  inclu- 
ded a  contribution  for  keeping  the  road  on  both  sides  in 
good  repair,  and  was  really  not  exorbitant.  The  road 
itself,  considering  the  youth  of  the  country,  is  a  marvel. 
We  found  the  ascent  very  tedious,  as  the  horses  were 
obliged  to  stop  every  fifty  yards,  and  regain  their  wind. 
But  all  things  have  an  end ;  and  at  two  o'clock,  hot,  dusty, 
and  hungry,  we  drove  into  Iowa  Hill. 

This  was  formerly  a  very  flourishing  mining  town,  but 
has  of  late  fallen  off  considerably,  on  account  of  some  of 
the  richest  leads  giving  out.  In  spite  of  a  broad,  planked 
street,  hotels,  express  offices,  and  stores,  it  has  rather  a 
dilapidated  appearance.  At  the  tavern  where  we  stopped 
for  a  dinner,  the  following  notice  was  stuck  up : 

"  OONSTABIiE'S  salk. 
**  Vilty  Chickins  and  Six  Rose  Bushes  will  be  sold  oa  Friday  Qext." 

The  guests'  parlor  was,  at  the  same  time,  the  sitting 
room  of  the  landlord's  family,  and,  while  we  were  waiting 
for  dinner,  the  hostess  entered  into  conversation  with  mj 
wife.     "  Why  won't  you  stop  here  this  evening  ?"  she  asked 


160  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

**  We  are  bound  for  Forest  Hill,"  was  the  reply.  "  Bui 
you  might  as  well  stop ;  our  theatre  is  empty,  and  every 
body  would  go."'  Thinking  she  referred  to  my  lecture, 
my  wife  answered  :  "  The  engagement  was  made  at  Forest 
Hill  for  this  evening.''  "  I  wish  I  could  go,"  exclaimed  the 
lady ;  "  I  <?o  like  to  hear  concerts.  You  give  quartetts,  ol 
course,  as  there  are  four  of  you.  Is  he  (pointing  to  the 
driver)  the  comic  one  ?  What  is  your  husband — tenor  or 
bass  ?  I'm  sure  you  could  get  our  theatre  at  a  minute's 
notice.  We  haven't  had  no  concert  for  a  long  while ;  and 
if  there's  fun,  you'd  have  lots  of  people !" 

We  started  again  at  three,  as  there  were  still  twelve 
miles  to  be  gotten  over.  A  scene  of  truly  inspiring  beauty 
now  received  us.  Emerging  from  the  woods,  we  found 
ourselves  on  the  brink  of  a  deep,  wild,  winding  valley,  up 
which  streamed  the  afternoon  sun,  tinting  its  precipitous 
capes  and  their  feathery  mantle  of  forests  with  airy  gold, 
while  the  intervening  gulfs  slept  in  purple  gloom.  The 
more  gradual  slopes  on  either  side  were  nobly  wooded, 
with  a  superb  intermixture  of  foliage.  The  road — broad, 
smooth,  and  admirably  graded  (costing,  lam  told,  $30,000) 
— wound  around  the  hollows  and  headlands,  sometimes 
buried  in  the  darkness  of  oracular  woods,  sometimes  poised 
in  sunshine  over  the  hazy  deeps.  Our  journey  across 
this  magnificent  valley  was  a  transit  of  delight.  There  is 
nothing  more  beautiful  anywhere  in  the  Sierra  Nevada. 

Now,  what  do  you  suppose  is  the  name  attached  to  this 
gpot  ?  What  melodious  title  enfolds  in  its  sound  a  sugges- 
tion of  so  much  beauty  ?  It  is  called — conceal  thy  face, 
O  modest  reader  1    I  write  it  with  a  blush  mantling  mj 


NEW    PICTURES   PROM   CALIEOTMnA,  151 

8teel-pen,  down  to  the  very  point — "  Shirt-tail  Canon  I» 
Palsied  be  the  profane  tongue  that  first  insulted  Nature  bj 
bestowing  it!  The  story  is,  that  the  first  miner,  washing 
in  the  stream,  with  nothing  on  but  his  shirt,  was  seen  by  the 
next  comers,  carrying  up  his  gold  in  the  tail  thereof,  lik*^ 
an  apron,  regardless  of  appearances.  Be  that  as  it  may 
this  part  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  has  been  made  infamous  by 
ts  abu!idance  of  the  most  condemnable  names  which  a 
beastly  imagination  ever  invented.  A  little  further  up  in 
the  hills  is  a  niining-camp,  called  "  Hell's  Delight !"  There  is 
also  "  Bogus  Thunder"  not  far  oflT,  and  a  village  with  the 
delicious  appellation  of  "  Ground  Hog's  Glory  !'*  Hallelu- 
jah !  what  a  field  the  future  poets  of  California  will  have  I 
Fancy  one  of  them  singing : 

'  When  in  Shirt-Tail  Canon  buds  the  grove. 
And  the  larks  are  singing  in  Hell's  Delight, 
To  Ground  Hog's  Glory  I'll  come,  my  love, 
And  sing  at  thy  lattice  by  night  1" 

Or  thus : 

'*  My  heart  is  torn  asnnder. 
My  life  is  filled  with  pain ; 
The  daughter  of  Bogus  Thunder 
Looks  on  me  with  disdain  I" 

I  have  only  given  the  most  favorable  specimens.  There 
are  some  places,  the  names  of  which  are  current  from  mouth 
to  mouth,  but  which,  for  obvious  reasons,  are  never  printed 
Some  of  them  are  out-of-way  camps,  which  will  nevei 
Decome  classic  localities — but  a  spot  of  such  remarkable 
beauty  as  the  canon  we  have  just  passed  through  (I  will 
not  repeat  the  name)  deserves  to  be  immediately  redeemed 


152  AT   HOME   AKD   ABBOAD. 

Let  me  suggest  a  title.  I  noticed  a  resemblance,  m  certain 
features,  to  a  wild  and  beautiful  valley  in  the  Taygetus 
Let  it,  therefore,  be  called  "  Spartan  Canon" — which  will, 
at  the  same  time,  convey  the  idea  of  the  original  name  to 
the  classical  troveller.  I  call  upon  ye,  inhabitants  of  Iowa 
Hill,  Forest  Hill,  Yankee  Jim's,  Mount  Hope,  and  Hell's 
Delight,  to  accept  this  name  (if  you  cannot  find  a  better) 
and  let  the  present  epithet  perish  with  the  wretch  who  first 
applied  it ! 

Toward  sunset  we  reached  Yankee  Jim's — a  very  pic- 
turesque and  cheerful  little  village,  in  spite  of  its  name. 
Thence,  there  were  four  miles  along  the  summit  of  a  ridge 
covered  with  gigantic  pines  and  arbor  vitae  (the  latter  often 
200  feet  high),  to  Forest  Hill.  The  splendor  of  the  sunset- 
glow  among  these  mountains  is  not  to  be  described.  The 
trees  stood  like  images  of  new  bronze,  inlaid  with  rubies — 
the  air  was  a  sea  of  crimson  fire,  investing  the  far-off  ridges 
with  a  robe  of  imperial  purple — while  dark-green  and  violet 
hues  painted  the  depths  that  lay  in  shadow.  The  contrasts 
of  color  were  really  sublime  in  their  strength  and  fierce- 
ness. 

We  wandered  off  the  trail,  and,  before  knowing  it,  found 
ourselves  in  the  bottom  of  a  weird  glen,  called  the  "  Devil's 
Canon.''  The  dusk  was  creeping  on ;  sheets  of  blue  smoke, 
from  fires  somewhere  in  the  forest,  settled  down  between 
the  huge,  dark  trunks ;  unearthly  whispers  seemed  to  float 
n  the  air ;  and  the  trail  we  followed  became  so  faint  in  the 
gloom  as  barely  to  be  discerned.  I  thought  of  the  "Wolffs 
6  en,''  in  D&r  FreischUtz  ;  and  "  Samiel,  come  !  appear  !" 
was  on  my  lips.     The  only  exit  was  by  climbing  a  bank 


NBW   PICTURES   FEOM   CALIFORNIA.  163 

wrhich  seemed  almost  perpendicular.  By  springing  out  and 
holding  on  the  upper  side  of  the  vehicle,  we  prevented  it 
from  capsizing,  regained  the  proper  trail,  and  ere  long 
reached  Forest  Hill.  Mr.  Webster,  the  express  agent, 
Hndly  tendered  us  the  hospitalities  of  his  house — the  repose 
of  which  was  most  grateftd  after  our  long  journey. 

Forest  Hill  is  a  charming  little  place,  on  the  very  sum- 
mit of  the  lofty  ridge  overlooking  the  Middle  Fork  of  the 
American,  and  at  least  three  thousand  feet  above  the  sea. 
The  single  broad  street  is  shaded  by  enormous  pines  and 
oaks,  which  have  been  left  standing  as  the  forest  is  thinned 
away.  The  hill  is  perforated  with  drifts,  which  rim  under 
the  town  itself;  and,  as  they  settle,  will  some  day  let  it  down 
— as  recently  occurred  at  Michigan  Bluffs,  where  the  people 
awoke  one  morning  to  find  one  side  of  the  street  five  feet 
lower  than  the  other.  Forest  Hill  is  a  new  and  successful 
camp,  and  probably  secure  for  two  or  three  years  yet. 
When  the  leads  fail,  it  will  faU  into  ruins,  like  Wisconsin  Hill. 

From  a  point  near  the  village,  we  had  a  fine  view  of  the 
main  chain  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  dividing  the  waters  of  the 
American  from  Carson  Valley.  Pyramid  Peak  (which  rises 
to  the  height  of  near  twelve  thousand  feet)  was  clearly  visi- 
ble, with  a  few  snow-fields  yet  lingering  on  its  northern  side. 
Directly  opposite  to  us  lay  Georgetown,  my  destination  for 
the  night ;  but  the  great  gulf  of  the  Middle  Fork  intervened  ; 
and  while  the  distance,  in  an  air-line,  was  not  more  than  five 
miles,  it  was  ten  nules  by  the  bridle-path  across,  and  thirty 
by  the  wagon-road  which  we  were  obliged  to  take.  This 
will  give  some  idea  of  the  grand  fissures  by  which  thi< 
region  is  divided. 


154  AT   HOME   Xm)   ABROAD. 

The  journey  from  Forest  Hill  to  Georgetown  was  8c 
tedious,  80  fatiguing,  and  so  monotonous,  that  I  have  no 
mind  to  say  much  about  it.  Our  vehicle  was  an  old 
fashioned  carriage,  with  seats  about  six  inches  apart 
Heing  wedged  in  so  tightly,  we  were  doubly  sensitive  to 
the  incessant  furious  jolts  of  the  road ;  while,  the  day  being 
intensely  hot  and  still,  the  dust  arose  in  clouds,  which 
rarely  allowed  us  to  open  our  eyes.  There  were  fifteen 
mortal  miles  of  jolting  down  the  gradually  descending 
ridge  to  Murderer's  Bar  (another  name  !)  and  then  fifteen 
miles  up  a  similar  ridge  to  Georgetown.  Here  and  there, 
we  had  a  pleasant  bit  of  landscape  ;  but  generally,  the 
scenery  was  tame,  compared  with  that  of  the  previous 
day. 

Georgetown  is  one  of  the  oldest  mining  camps  in  the 
State.  I  heard  of  it  in  1849,  although  my  trip  did  not  ex- 
tend so  far  north.  The  place  has  a  compact,  quiet,  settled 
appearance,  which  hints  at  stagnation  rather  than  progress. 
The  hotel  is  a  very  piimitive  affair — the  bed-rooms  being 
simply  -stalls,  divided  from  one  another,  and  from  the  sit- 
ting-room by  muslin  partitions.  The  theatre  is  a  bankrupt 
church :  nothing  seems  to  flourish  except  drinking  saloons. 
Mining  was  at  a  low  ebb  at  the  time  of  my  visit,  and  many 
persons  had  taken  up  gambling  instead.  Nevertheless, 
there  are  several  jolly  and  genial  gentlemen  in  the  place, 
and  its  atmosphere  of  leisure  was  rather  attractive  to  me 
than  otherwise.  After  rising  in  season,  next  morning,  for 
the  journey  to  Placerville,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  rousing 
the  sleeping  stable-men,  and  waiting  a  full  hour  in  the  grow- 
ing dawn  before  they  were  ready  with  the  vehicle.     Aorosf 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  15t 

the  way  was  a  drinking-saloon,  in  which  a  company  of  gam 
biers,  who  had  been  sitting  there  the  evening  before,  were 
still  plying  their  trade,  with  haggard  faces,  and  blood-shot 
eyes.  The  law  against  gambling  is  quite  inoperative  in  the 
mining  districts,  as  the  Maine  Liquor  Law,  or  any  otbei 
statute  repressing  the  coarse,  natural  appetites  of  men  would 
be.  The  ruder  the  toil,  the  ruder  the  indulgence  for  which 
it  pays.  So  long  as  the  population  of  these  places  fluctu- 
ates according  to  the  mineral  wealth,  and  the  moral  influ- 
ence which  springs  from  a  stable  society  is  wanting,  this 
must  continue  to  be  the  case.  I  see  no  help  for  it.  Men 
will  have  cakes,  though  stufied  with  nightshade  berries; 
and  ale,  though  it  be  hell-broth. 

It  was  fairly  sunrise  before  we  got  away  from  George- 
town, and  the  temper  with  which  I  began  the  day's  jour- 
ney was  not  sweetened  by  the  knowledge  that  I  had  lost 
an  hour  of  precious  sleep  to  no  purpose.  But  the  balmy 
air,  the  golden  light,  and  the  soothing  flavor  of  a  sedative 
herb  worked  their  accustomed  magic,  and  I  reserved  ray 
discontent  for  the  heat  and  dust  to  come.  We  travelled 
for  six  miles,  or  more,  through  a  succession  of  pleasant 
little  valleys,  all  more  or  less  populated,  and,  consequently, 
ravaged  and  devastated  by  pick  and  spade.  In  place  of 
the  green  meadows,  set  in  circles  of  glorious  forest,  as  in 
184&,  there  were  unsightly  heaps  of  dirt  and  stones,  and 
naked  hill-sides,  perforated  with  drifts,  and  spanned  by 
lofty  flumes,  from  which  poured  torrents  of  liquid  mud, 
rather  than  water.  Nature  here  reminds  one  of  a  princess, 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  robbers,  who  cut  off  her  fingers  foi 
the  sake  of  the  jewels  she  wears. 


166  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

The  passage  of  the  South  Fork  of  the  American,  which 
followed,  resembled  that  of  the  other  branches,  on  a  smaller 
scale.  Once  on  the  summit,  two  miles  across  the  flat  to]; 
of  the  ridge  brought  us  to  the  brink  of  a  narrow,  winding 
valley,  in  the  bottom  of  which  lay  Placerville.  Passing 
between  rows  of  neat  cottages,  shaded  with  young  cotton- 
woods,  or  embowered  in  trellises  of  passion-flower  and 
Australian  pea,  we  reached  the  business  portion  of  the 
town — jammed  in  the  narrow  bed  between  the  hills,  com- 
pact, paved,  and  bustling — and  halted  at  the  Gary  House. 
To  travellers  coming  from  Utah,  who  have  lived  ten  days 
on  salt  pork,  and  drank  the  alkaline  waters  of  Humboldt 
River,  this  hotel  must  seem  a  veritable  Elysium ;  and  even 
to  us,  who  had  had  no  breakfast,  and  were  unconscionably 
hungry,  it  was  a  welcome  haven.  Clean,  comfortable 
rooms,  and  an  obliging  host,  seconded  the  first  impression, 
and  I  did  not  so  much  wonder  at  the  toughness  of  the 
meats,  on  learning  that  there  is  but  one  butcher  in  the 
place,  who  buys  out  or  competitiously  ruins,  all  rivals. 

The  diggings  around  Placerville  are  among  the  oldest  in 
California.  The  place  was  known,  in  1849,  as  "Hang- 
town,"  but  having  become  a  permanent  centre  of  business, 
and  the  capital  of  Eldorado  County,  the  original  name 
(suggestive  of  Lynch  law)  was  very  properly  dropped.  ] 
cannot  say,  however,  that  property  is  much  more  secure 
than  under  the  old  regime.  A  few  days  before  our  arrival, 
the  County  Treasurer's  office  was  broken  into,  and  the  pub- 
lic funds,  amounting  to  $8,000,  carried  off".  Scarcely  a  day 
passed  during  our  sojourn  in  the  mountains,  without  oui 
hearing  of  some  store  or  express  office  being  plur  dered. 


ITEW   PICTUBES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  15? 

and  it  did  not  once  happen  that  the  thief  was  caught.  Ae 
the  currency  is  specie  (banks  being  prohibited  by  the  Con- 
stitution), money  is  a  serious  embarrassment.  Besides,  il 
cannot  be  identified,  if  stolen.  One  result  of  this  prohibi 
tion  is,  that  many  capitalists,  having  no  secure  place  of 
deposit,  bury  their  money  until  they  need  it.  From  one 
end  of  California  to  the  other,  coin  is  potted  and  put  into 
the  earth  for  safe  keeping.  Often,  when  a  farmer  wishes 
to  make  an  investment,  you  may  see  him  measuring  so 
many  feet  from  such  a  tree,  at  such  an  angle  with  such 
another  tree,  etc.,  until  he  has  found  the  right  spot,  when 
he  will  dig  you  up  five,  or  ten,  or  twenty  thousand  dollars. 
This  is  a  phenomenon  which  I  commend  to  the  attention  ol 
political  economists. 

To  return  to  Placerville.  The  sides  of  the  hills  around 
are  scarred  with  surface-mining  and  penetrated  with  di-ifts, 
while  the  stamps  of  quartz-mills  may  be  heard  pounding  in 
the  valley.  Ditches,  brought  from  the  river  twenty-seven 
miles  above,  are  carried  along  the  summits  of  the  ridges, 
where  they  not  only  furnish  means  for  washing  the  dirt, 
but  occasionally  irrigate  gardens  on  the  slopes.  The  best 
placers,  I  was  told,  are  exhausted,  and  mining  in  the  imme- 
diate neighborhood  of  the  town  is  rather  precarious,  at 
present.  I  was  more  interested  in  visiting  the  reservoir  of 
the  "Water  Company,  on  a  height  some  three  or  four  nules 
distant.  The  cost  of  the  ditch,  fluming,  etc.,  was  upwards 
of  $750,000.  No  idea  can  be  fonned  of  the  immense  labor 
bestowed  on  such  works,  along  the  whole  range  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada.  There  has  been  some  wild  engineering,  it 
is   true,  and   many  of  the  works  might  have  been  con 


168  AT  HOlVrE  AND   ABROAD. 

structed  at  half  the  expense  ;  yet  they  are  none  lh« 
less  an  exhibition  of  the  colossal  enterprise  of  the  ne^j 
country. 

In  the  afternoon,  we  paid  a  visit  to  a  quartz  mill,  in  a 
little  ravine  behind  the  town.  The  propelling  power  ig 
steam,  and  the  capacity  of  the  mill  twenty  stamps,  which 
will  crush  about  one  hundred  tons  of  rock  per  week.  These 
stamps  are  simply  heavy  iron  pounders,  lifted  by  the  action 
of  cogs  on  a  main  shaft,  which  turns  behind  them,  and  then 
allowed  to  fall  on  the  pieces  of  broken  quartz,  which  are 
fed  in  below.  A  stream  of  water  flows  constantly  over  the 
bed  whereupon  they  fall,  carrying  away  the  powdered  rock, 
after  it  has  been  reduced  to  suflScient  fineness,  over  an  in- 
clined plane,  at  the  bottom  of  which  it  is  gathered  into  a 
sluice.  The  quicksilver  then  separates  the  gold  in  the  usual 
way.  No  use,  I  believe,  has  yet  been  made  of  the  refuse 
quartz-powder ;  but  I  should  think  it  might  be  profitably 
employed  in  the  manufacture  of  stone-ware.  The  plan  of 
working  is  the  simplest  that  can  be  devised.  In  many 
places,  the  old  Spanish  arastra  is  still  employed.  This  is  a 
hopper,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  an  upright  shaft,  turned 
by  horse-power,  in  the  same  manner  as  a  cider-mill.  From 
the  shaft  project  two  horizontal  bars,  at  the  end  of  which 
heavy  stones  are  suspended,  while  the  hopper  i%  filled  with 
broken  quartz.  By  the  turning  of  the  shaft,  the  stones  art 
dragged  over  the  quartz,  slo\yly  crushing  and  reducing  it 
It  is  a  tediooS;  but  very  cheap  manner  of  extracting  the 
gold. 


NSW  PICTURES  FBOM  CALIFOfiNIA  159 


8 — Thb  Soxjthebn  Minbs. 

Htthebto,  my  journeys  in  the  Sierra  Nevada  had  been 
entirely  over  new  ground ;  but  now,  I  was  to  revisit  tho 
field  of  my  adventures  in  1849.  I  looked  forward  with 
much  interest  to  seeing  again  the  bear-haunted  woods,  the 
glens  where  I  had  been  lulled  to  sleep  by  the  baying  of  the 
wolves,  and  where  a  chorus  of  supernatural  voices  sang  to 
my  excited  imagination.  The  fresh,  inspiring  beauty  of 
those  scenes  was  still  present  to  my  eye,  and  I  did  not 
doubt  that  I  should  find  them,  if  possible,  still  more  attrac- 
tive since  the  advent  of  civilization. 

The  first  point  to  be  reached  was  Jackson,  the  capital  of 
Amador  county,  about  thu-ty-five  miles  fromPlacerville.  A^ 
it  was  a  cross  road,  traversing  the  ridges  at  right  angles, 
this  was  an  ample  journey  for  one  day.  We  were  obliged 
to  start  before  sunrise,  taking  the  Folsom  stage  as  far  as 
Mud  Springs,  whence,  after  a  delay  of  an  hour,  anothei 
vehicle  set  out  for  Diytown.  This  interval  we  employed  in 
getting  breakfast,  which,  had  quantity  and  quality  been  re 
versed,  would  have  been  a  good  meal.  The  table-cloth,  from 
its  appearance,  might  have  lain  all  night  in  a  barnyard,  tram 
pled  by  the  feet  of  cattle ;  upon  it  were  plains  of  leathery  beef, 
swimming  in  half-congealed  tallow,  mountains  of  sodden 
potatoes  and  leaden  biscuit,  with  yellow,  stratified  streaks  of 
potash,  and  seas  of  black,  bitter  fluid,  which — mixed  with 
damp,  brown  sugar,  and  cold,  thin  milk — was  called  coflfee 
Satan  would  have  rejoiced  to  see  the  good  gifts  of  God  sc 
perverted.     We  starved  in  the  midst  of  plenty.     It  was 


l60  AT    BOMB   AND   ABROAD. 

"  Victuals,  victuals  everywhere^ 
And  not  a  bit  to  eat" 

Presently  the  stage  came  along.  It  was  a  square-bodied 
machine,  with  imperfect  springs,  drawn  by  two  horses.  Tht 
■eats  were  hard  and  flat,  and  covered  with  slippery  leather. 
As  Cowper  says,  "  The  slippery  seat  betrayed  the  sliding 
part ;"  and  one  was  obliged  to  be  on  the  look-out,  lest  he 
should  find  himself  on  the  floor  of  the  vehicle  in  descend- 
ing the  hills. 

The  country  through  which  we  drove,  though  at  a  consi- 
derable elevation  above  the  sea,  was  comparatively  level. 
It  was  sparsely  timbered,  and  more  brown  and  scorched 
in  appearance  than  the  hot  plains  below.  Here  and  there, 
however,  were  some  pleasant  little  valleys — still  pleasant  to 
the  eye,  though  cruelly  mutilated  by  the  gold-diggers. 
Quartz-mills,  driven  by  steam,  were  frequent ;  I  could  not, 
however,  ascertain  their  proportion  of  success.  I  was  struck 
with  the  great  variety  of  opinion  regarding  quartz-raining 
among  those  with  whom  I  conversed.  I  made  it  a  point  to 
ascertain  the  views  of  intelligent  men,  for  the  purpose  of 
drawing  juster  conclusions.  I  found  about  an  equal  num- 
ber of  the  sanguine  and  desponding.  Some  said :  "  The 
richest  yield  is  at  the  top  of  the  vein ;  it  gradually  runs  out 
as  you  go  downward" — while  others  affirmed,  with  equal 
certainty:  "The  gold  increases  as  you  approach  the  bed- 
ock ;  and  it  is  very  evident  that  quartz-mining  will  give  a 
deeper  return  as  the  drifts  are  sunk  deeper."  Most  of  them, 
however,  considered  the  auriferous  harvests  of  Cahfornia  aa 
tolerably  certain  for  the  next  fifty  years. 

After  several  additional  miles,  through  the  same  torn  and 


NEW   PICTUBES   F£OM    CALIfOBNIA.  161 

devastated  region,  offering  very  little  to  gratify  the  eye,  we 
re  Ached  Drytown.  This  is  a  village  of  four  or  five  hundred 
inhabitants,  in  a  district  once  famed  for  its  rich  placers. 
The  only  interest  it  had  for  us  was,  that  it  gave  us  a  dinner 
and  an  hour's  respite  from  our  jolting  stage-coach.  Botk 
tiiese  refreshments  were  welcome,  as  we  still  had  ten  or 
twelve  miles  to  Jackson. 

I  now  began  to  look  out  for  remembered  land-marks ;  but 
after  a  time  gave  up  all  hopes  of  recognising  anything  which 
I  had  seen  before.  In  1849,  I  had  travelled  this  road  on 
foot,  plodding  along  through  noble  forests,  which  showered 
their  suspended  rain-drops  upon  my  head,  rarely  catching  a 
view  of  the  surrounding  hills.  Now,  the  forests  are  cut 
away;  the  hollows  are  fenced  and  farmed;  the  heights  are 
hot  and  bare ;  quartz-mills  shriek  and  stamp  beside  the  road, 
and  heavy  teams,  enveloped  in  dust,  replace  the  itinerant 
miners,  with  wash-bowl  on  back  and  pick  in  hand.  The 
aspect  of  this  region  is  therefore  completely  changed.  Even 
the  village  of  Amador,  which  I  remembered  as  a  solitary 
ranche,  was  no  longer  to  be  recognised.  The  changes 
were  for  the  worse,  so  far  as  the  beauty  of  the  scenery  is 
concerned. 

After  crossing  Dry  Creek,  the  road  ascended  a  long, 
gradual  slope,  on  gaining  the  crest  of  which,  I  cried  out  in 
delight  at  the  vision  before  us.     The  level,  crimson  rays  of 

he  sun  streamed  through  the  hazy  air,  smiting  the  summits 
of  the  mountains  with  a  bloody  glow.  In  the  valley,  two 
miles  off,  lay  Jackson,  half  hidden  by  belts  and  groups  of 
colossal  pines.     High  in  the  east  towered  the  conical  peak 

of  The  Butte,  which  my  feet  first  scaled,  and  to  which  1 


182  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

gave  the  name  of  Polo's  Peak.  In  front,  violet  against  th« 
burning  sky,  was  Mokelumne  Hill  and  the  picturesque 
heights  around  the  Lower  Bar — while  far  away,  in  an  atmo- 
sphere of  gorgeous  color,  we  saw,  or  thought  we  saw,  a 
pyramid  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  I  knew  the  prominent 
features  of  the  landscape,  yet  beheld  them  again,  as  in  a 
dream. 

My  recollections  of  Jackson  were  of  two  rough  shanties 
in  the  woods,  where  I  tried  to  feed  a  starving  horse  on  corn- 
meal,  and  afterward  slept  all  night  on  a  raw  hide  spread  on 
the  ground,  beside  an  Indian  boy.  Now,  in  the  falling  twi- 
light, we  drove  down  a  long,  compact  street,  thronged  with 
miners  and  traders,  noticed  the  gardens  in  the  rear,  the 
church  and  court-house,  and  finally  a  two-story  hotel,  with 
a  veranda  filled  with  tropical  flowers.  As  the  sunset  faded, 
and  the  half-moon  shone  in  the  sky,  veiling  whatever  was 
pecuUarly  Californian  in  the  appearance  of  the  place,  I  could 
easily  have  believed  myself  in  some  town  of  the  Apennines. 

Midway  between  Jackson  and  Mokelumne  Hill  rises  the 
Butte,  a  noble  landmark  far  and  wide  through  the  moun- 
tains. On  my  way  to  the  Volcano,  in  November,  1849,  I 
climbed  to  its  summit ;  and  by  right  of  discoveiy,  conferred 
upon  it  the  name  of  a  brave  old  Indian  Chieftain  (Polo), 
v^  ^o  once  lived  in  the  neighborhood.  I  had  hoped  the 
natnii  Q  might  remain,  but  was  disappointed.  It  is  now  uni- 
yetsaVfciy.  ^Iq^  ^|jg  Butte  (which  means  any  isolated  bill), 
ana  a  <j  ^^j  inquiries  had  no  greater  success  than  to  ascer- 
t*^^  lat  there  was  one  man  on  the  Mokelumne  who  had 
\^^*^  some  other  man  say,  years  ago,  that  he  (the  other 
W^^^^iad  heard  it  once  called  "  Polo's  Peak."    My  good 


NEW   PIcrrUEES  FROM   CALIFOEOTa  168 

name  (as  I  conceived  it  to  be)  is  forgotten,  while  "  Bogus 
Thunder"  and  "  New-York-of-the-Pacific "  still  exist.  Suck 
is  life ! 

I  was  glad  to  find,  however,  that  a  tradition  of  my  ascent 
is  still  preserved  in  the  neighborhood.  The  summit  is  now 
a  favorite  place  of  resort  for  pic-nic  parties,  in  the  pleasant 
season.  Not  long  ago,  a  romantic  widow  of  Jackson  made 
it  a  condition  that  she  should  be  married  there — which  was 
accordingly  done;  clergyman,  bride's-maids,  friends,  and 
refreshments  all  being  conveyed  to  the  top.  There  is  no 
limit,  however,  to  the  eccentric  fancies  of  brides.  During 
the  State  Fair  at  Sacramento,  a  young  couple  succeeded  in 
having  themselves  married  on  the  platform  of  the  great 
hall,  in  the  view  of  two  thousand  people.  While  in  Minne- 
sota, I  heard  of  a  marriage  behind  the  sheet  of  Minne-ha-ha. 
Fancy  the  happy  pair  standing  with  their  feet  in  mud  and 
their  heads  in  spray,  the  clergyman  yelling  through  the 
thunder  of  the  fall :  "  Wilt  thou  have  this  man  ?"  etc.,  and 
the  bride  screaming  "I  will!"  at  the  top  of  her  voice! 
Others  have  been  married  in  the  Mammoth  Cave,  on  Table 
Rock,  on  the  Washington  Monument,  in  a  balloon,  for 
aught  I  know.  Whenever  I  see  such  an  external  straining 
after  sentiment,  I  always  susjiect  an  inner  lack  of  it. 

The  next  morning  dawned  warm  and  cloudless.  Our 
day's  journey  was  but  eight  miles  to  the  village  of  Moke- 
lumne  Hill,  which  we  had  seen  the  evening  before,  in  the 
last  rays  of  the  sun,  on  the  top  of  a  mountain  beyond  the 
Mokelumne.  I  therefore  hired  a  two-horse  biiggy,  with  a 
bright,  intelligent  driver,  and  we  set  out  early,  to  avoid  the 
noonday  heat.     After  crossing  some  hills,  which  gave  uf 


164  At  HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

lovely  views  toward  Polo's  Peak,  we  entered  a  narrow 
canon,  winding  downward  to  the  river  between  steep  accli- 
vities. The  road,  which  was  broad  and  of  easy  grade,  had 
been  excavated  and  built  up  with  great  labor ;  ditches  of 
sparkling  water  ran  along  the  opposite  bank,  and  group 
)f  bay,  evergreen  oak,  and  manzanita  rose  warm  in  the  sun 
shine.  While  we  were  heartily  enjoying  the  wild,  shifting 
beauty  of  the  glen,  the  driver  suddenly  turned  around  to 
me,  saying : 

"  You  know  this  place,  don't  you  ?" 

"  I  seem  to  recognise  parts  of  it,"  said  I,  "  but  everything 
is  so  changed,  since  '49,  that  I  could  not  be  certain." 

"Why,"  he  exclaimed,  "the  people  say  you  are  the  first 
man  that  ever  went  through  this  canon  I" 

Looking  more  closely,  and  taking  the  bearings  of  the  hill 
above  Lower  Bar  and  the  Butte,  I  saw  that  it  was  in  reality 
the  same  ravine  up  which  I  had  climbed  after  leaving  the 
river,  supposing  that  it  might  be  a  shorter  passage  to  an 
Indian  trail  beyond.  The  old,  forgotten  picture  came  back 
suddenly,  as  if  revealed  by  some  lightning-flash  in  the  dark 
of  Memory.  There  was  the  gusty  November  sky ;  the  wild 
ravine,  wet  with  recent  rains ;  dark  pines  rising  from  its 
depths;  suspicious  clumps  of  madrono  and  manzanita, 
which  might  conceal  some  grizzly  bear;  and  myself,  in 
well-worn  corduroy  armor,  slowly  mounting  the  rocky  bed 
f  the  stream.  This  circumstance,  which  I  had  wholly  for- 
gotten, had  been  remembered  by  others,  and  the  descent 
of  the  canon  had  a  double  enjoyment  to  me,  after  the 
discovery. 

We  oame  upon  the  Mokelumne  River  at  Middle  Bar,  a 


KEW   PICrUEBS  FBO]£  CAUTOENIA.  16& 

great  bed  of  gravel  and  sand,  now  almost  deserted,  except 
by  a  few  Chinamen  in  huge  umbrella  hats,  who  were  forag 
ing  here  and  there,  after  the  gleanings  left  by  the  white 
harvesters.  A  turn  of  the  river  concealed  from  my  view 
the  camp  on  the  hill-side  at  Lower  Bar,  where  Lieut.  Beale 
and  I  bad  shared  the  hospitality  of  Baptiste,  the  voyageur 
and  where,  during  a  two-days'  rain,  I  had  amused  myself 
by  watching  Senator  Gwin  lay  down  the  political  wires 
which  he  afterward  pulled  to  some  purpose.  There  I  ven- 
tured on  my  first  and  last  speculation.  I  was  persuaded 
to  invest  $200  in  an  operation  for  damming  the  river.  It 
promised  well,  the  work  was  completed,  the  washings 
turned  out  splendidly,  and  I  was  in  ftdl  hopes  of  receiving 
$1,000  in  return  for  my  venture,  when  the  rains  feU,  the 
river  rose,  and  away  went  the  dam.  "  Let  me  give  you  a 
serious  piece  of  advice,"  said  Washington  Irving  to  me, 
one  day,  "  never  invest  your  money  in  anything  that  pays 
a  hundred  per  cent. !"  And  1  never  have,  since  then,  and 
never  wUl. 

For  the  sake  of  old  times,  I  should  gladly  have  gone 
down  to  the  Lower  Bar,  but  the  sun  was  already  high  and 
not,  and  an  ascent  of  near  a  mile  and  a  half  lay  before  us. 
The  Mokelumne  at  this  point,  however,  does  not  lie  in  a 
tremendous  trough,  like  the  Forks  of  the  American  and 
the  Yuba ;  the  steeps  on  either  side  are  of  irregular  height, 
and  broken  by  frequent  lateral  canons.  The  scenery  is, 
therefore,  less  savage  and  forbidding  in  appearance,  but 
infinitely  more  picturesque.  On  reaching  the  summit  of 
the  mountain  plateau,  we  saw  before  us  the  village-^ 
perched,  as  it  were,  on  scattered  hills,  a  loftier  peak  over 


166  AT   HOME  AND   ABBOAD. 

hanging  it  on  the  east,  a  table-shaped  mountain  (with  a 
race-course  on  the  top),  guarding  it  on  the  south,  while 
elsewhere  the  steeps  dropped  off  into  gorges  filled  with 
dim  blue  mist.  Though  on  a  still  grander  scale,  it  reminded 
me  somewhat  of  the  positions  of  Perugia,  or  Narni,  among 
the  Roman  Apennines. 

In  other  respects,  the  resemblance  was  quite  as  striking. 
The  dry  soil,  with  its  rich  tints  of  orange  and  burnt  sienna 
— the  evergreen  oaks,  so  much  resembling  the  Italian  ilex 
— the  broad-leaved  fig-trees  in  the  gardens — the  workmen 
with  bare,  sunburnt  breasts — the  dolce  far  niente  of  a  few 
loungers  in  the  shade — and  the  clear,  hot,  October  sky,  in 
which  there  was  no  prophecy  of  winter,  all  belonged  to 
the  lands  of  the  Mediterranean.  If  we  had  here  the  grace 
which  Art  has  cast  over  those  lands,  thought  I,  we  might 
dispense  with  the  magic  of  their  history. 

Bidding  a  reluctant  good-bye  to  Mokelumne  Hill,  next 
morning,  we  continued  our  journey  southward  across  the 
mountains — our  next  destination  being  San  Andreas,  the 
court-town  of  Calaveras  county.  The  table-shaped  moun- 
tain behind  the  former  town  is  the  water-shed  between  the 
Mokelumne  and  the  Calaveras— the  latter  river  having  a 
broad  and  comparatively  shallow  basin,  with  numerous  afliu- 
ents,  while  the  Mokelumne  and  the  Stanislaus,  to  the  north 
and  south  of  it,  flew  through  deep,  precipitous  troughs. 
After  we  had  passed  the  summit,  our  road  dropped  into  a 
picturesque,  winding  glen,  beyond  which  rose  the  blue  mass 
jf  the  lofty  Bear  Mountain. 

It  was  a  journey  of  only  eight  miles  to  San  Andreas, 
through  a  rolling,  cheerful  country,  with  some  beginning! 


NEW   PICrrUEES   FEOM   CALIFOKNIA.  167 

K  cultivation.  A  farmer  who  was  threshing  his  wheat  in 
the  open  air  informed  me  that  the  yield  averaged  forty 
two  bushels  to  the  acre ;  this,  of  course,  without  manure,  and 
with  the  most  superficial  ploughing.  The  vine  grew  with 
•:he  most  astonishing  luxuriance  wherever  it  was  planted, 
and  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  that  the  best  wines  of  Cali- 
fornia will  ultimately  be  produced  from  the  hill-sides  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada.  As  we  approached  the  Calaveras  river 
the  range  of  Bear  Mountain  rose  high  and  blue  on  our  left_ 
like  a  last  bulwark  against  the  plain  of  the  San  Joaquin 
The  view  from  its  summit  is  said  to  be  magnificent. 

At  noon  we  reached  San  Andreas,  a  village  of  perhaps 
eight  hundred  inhabitants,  scattered  over  the  northern 
slope  of  a  hill,  whose  conical  summit  overhangs  it.  The 
place  is  neither  so  picturesque  nor  so  well-built  as  Moke- 
himne  Hill,  with  the  exception  of  the  hotel,  a  new  and 
spacious  edifice  of  brick.  Here,  everything  was  neat  and 
commodious,  and  we  congratulated  ourselves  on  finding 
such  agreeable  quarters.  The  hot  autumnal  afternoon  dis- 
posed to  laziness,  yet  we  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
of  strolling  through  and  around  the  town,  running  the 
gauntlet  of  the  curious  eyes  of  the  loafers  congregated 
about  the  doors  of  the  drinking-saloons. 

In  their  structure,  these  mining  villages  are  very  similai. 
The  houdes  are  built  close  against  each  other,  as  in  a  largo 
city.  The  most  of  them  are  of  wood,  and  one  story  in 
neight.  Here  and  there,  you  see  a  block  of  brick  stores, 
two  stories  high,  flat-roofed,  and  with  iron  doors  and 
shutters,  as  a  protection  against  fire.  There  are  planls 
sidewalks,  and  very  often  the  streets  are  planked,  also. 


168  AT   HOMB   AND    ABROAD. 

Awnings  keep  off  the  hot  sun,  and  verandas  are  introduced 
wherever  it  is  practicable.  Behind  the  main  street  are 
clusters  of  shanties  inhabited  by  the  miners — small,  dusty, 
barren  of  ornament,  and  usually  standing  alone,  with  a 
rough  oven  of  stones  and  clay  adjoining.  On  the  outskirts 
of  these  are  the  still  more  rude  and  repulsive  dwellings  of 
the  Chinese.  The  alleys  between  are  strewed  with  rags, 
old  clothes,  broken  bottles,  and  miscellaneous  filth,  and 
swarm  with — fleas,  at  least.  This  portion  of  the  village 
strikingly  resembles  the  native  towns  in  Central  Africa. 
There  are  usually  one  hotel,  one  small  church,  a  theatre  of 
rough  boards,  and  five-and-twenty  dram-shops  to  a  place 
On  pleasant  locations  in  the  vicinity,  are  the  comfortable 
residences  and  gardens  of  the  successful  traders,  the  owners 
of  "  leads,"  or  quartz-mills,  and  the  holders  of  office. 

Life  in  such  a  place,  to  a  refined  and  cultivated  man, 
must  be  rather  dreary.  There  is  already,  it  is  true,  some 
little  society ;  but  relaxation  of  any  kind  is  irregular  and 
accidental,  rather  than  permanent.  "Women  tail ;  reading 
(except  of  political  newspapers)  is  an  obsolete  taste ;  and 
the  same  excess  which  characterizes  labor  is  too  often 
applied  to  amusements.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  a 
freedom  from  restraint — an  escape  from  that  social  tyranny 
which  is  the  curse  of  the  Atlantic  States — almost  sufficient 
to  reconcile  one  to  the  loss  of  the  other  advantages  of 
society.  I  do  not  think  that  the  Californians,  now  that 
they  have  cast  off  their  trammels,  will  ever  voluntarily 
assume  them  again.  The  worst  feature  of  the  absorbing 
rage  for  gold  is  the  indifference  of  the  people  to  the 
morality  of  those  whom  they  elect  to  office.      No  State 


TSTEW   PICTURES   FKOM   CALIFORNIA.  169 

in    the    Union   has    been,   and   still   is,   more  shamefully 
plundered. 

Reaching  the  slope  of  the  hill,  where  a  hot  hreezOj 
charged  with  rich,  niinty  odors,  blew  in  our  faces,  we 
climbed  to  the  summit,  which,  as  we  now  saw,  was  a  level 
of  about  two  acres,  laid  out  and  iqclosed  as  the  cemetery 
of  San  Andreas.  A  lofty  cross  is  its  appropriate  crown 
No  roses  were  planted  on  the  graves,  but  the  manzanita 
and  a  sort  of  dwarf  ilex  grew  in  clusters.  The  place  had 
a  solemn,  yet  soothing  and  cheerful  aspect.  No  nearer 
hills  interrupted  the  azure  circle  of  the  air,  wherein  the 
distant  mountains  floated ;  the  noises  of  labor,  and  trade, 
and  profanity,  and  jollity,  in  the  town  below,  blended  into 
an  indistinguishable  hum ;  while,  to  the  east  and  west,  a 
gap  in  the  mountains  seemed  purposely  left,  that  the  sun 
might  give  this  spot  his  first  and  latest  greeting.  The  pre- 
dominant colors  of  the  landscape  were  blue  and  a  pale 
golden-brown,  mottled  with  the  dark,  rich  gi-een  of  scatter- 
ing trees.  A  range  of  iri-egular  peaks  to  the  east  shut  out 
the  snowy  chain  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  but  a  lofty  moun- 
tain, near  the  head-waters  of  the  Stanislaus,  was  visible,  far 
in  the  south. 

From  the  flat  roof  of  the  veranda,  upon  which  our  win- 
dow opened,  we  enjoyed  a  delicious  view  of  the  sunset  illu- 
mination of  the  landscape.  Evening  after  evening,  the 
same  phenomenon  had  been  repeated — a  transmutation  of 
the  air  into  Jiuid  color,  of  a  pale  crimson  tinge,  which  lent 
'tself  to  every  object  touched  by  the  sun.  The  mountains 
shone  like  masses  of  glowing  metal,  and  the  trees  near  at 
band  stood  as  if  formed  of  compact  flame.     During   the 


170  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

few  miiiutes  of  sunset  the  color  changed  into  the  purest 
Vermillion,  after  which  it  gradually  faded  into  dull  purple, 
followed  by  an  after-glow  (as  among  the  Alps),  of  faint 
golden  radiance.  The  wind  always  falls  at  this  hour,  and 
the  atmosphere  is  balmy,  and  fragrant  with  the  odor  of 
dry  herbs.  The  nights  are  cool,  but  not  cold — making  one 
blanket  comfortable,  and  requiring  no  more. 

We  hailed  the  morrow,  for  it  was  to  take  us  to  the  south- 
ern limit  of  our  journey  through  the  mining  regions.  Two 
weeks  of  such  rough,  dusty  travel,  unrelieved  by  a  single 
day  of  rest,  had  made  us  heartily  weary,  while  the  scenery, 
grand  as  it  is,  is  nevei*theless  too  monotonous  to  inspire  an 
unflagging  sense  of  enjoyment.  The  stage-coaches  are  ter- 
ribly uncomfortable,  and  the  inhaling  of  an  atmosphere  of 
dust  which  effectually  hides  your  complexion  and  the  color 
of  your  hair  in  the  course  of  two  or  three  hours,  is  not  one 
of  those  trifling  discomforts  to  which  you  soon  become 
accustomed.  It  is  said  not  to  be  unhealthy — ^in  fact,  our 
lungs  suff*ered  no  inconvenience  from  it — but  it  often  pro- 
duces violent  inflammation  in  weak  eyes.  There  are  in- 
stances of  persons  having  endangered  their  sight  from  this 
cause.  The  first  symptom  is  an  acute  pain,  intermittent  in 
its  character — which,  if  not  allayed,  terminates  in  ophthal 
mia  more  malignant  than  that  of  Egypt.  Women  are  more 
subject  to  it  than  men,  and  the  worst  cases  are  probably 
those  who  have  been  accustomed  to  a  life  of  unnatural  semi- 
darkness  at  home. 

At  nine  o'clock,  the  stage-coach  from  Mokelurane  Hill  to 
Sonora  arrived,  and  we  took  passage  to  the  latter  place 
thirty-four  miles  distant.      As  fate  would  have  it,  I  waa 


NEW   PICTUEES   FKOM    CALIFOBNIA.  171 

crammed  into  the  narrow  back-seat,  beside  a  disgusting 
Chinaman.  If  there  had  been  any  enjoyment  in  the  jour- 
ney, this  fact  alone  would  have  spoiled  it.  The  stale,  musky 
odor  of  the  race  is  to  me  unendurable :  no  washingr  can 
eradicate  it,  and  this  fellow  was  not  washed.  Hue,  in  hii 
travels  in  Tartary,  refers  to  the  peculiar  smell  of  the  Chi 
nese,  and  states  that  the  dogs  always  discovered  him  under 
any  disguise,  by  the  difference  of  his  houquet.  I  do  not 
doubt  the  statement.  I  would  undertake  to  distinguish 
between  a  Chinaman,  a  Negro,  an  Indian,  and  a  member 
of  the  Caucasian  race,  in  a  perfectly  dark  room,  by  the 
sense  of  smell  alone.  The  human  blossoms  of  our  planet 
are  not  all  pinks  and  roses ;  we  find  also  the  datura  stramo- 
nium.^ the  toad's-flax,  and  the  skunk-cabbage. 

Our  course  at  first  led  in  a  southeastern  direction,  through 
one  of  the  tributary  valleys  of  the  Calaveras,  with  the  Bear 
Mountains  rising  grandly  on  our  left.  Here  the  drooping, 
elm-like  evergreen  oaks,  which  had  so  charmed  us  in  the 
valley  of  Russian  River,  again  made  their  appearance,  and 
the  landscapes  were  once  more  warm,  idyllic,  and  character- 
ized by  exquisite  harmony  of  color  and  outline.  The  hol- 
lows were  less  frequently  scarred  by  surface-washings  :  the 
plough  only  had  disturbed,  in  order  to  beautify,  the  face  of 
Nature.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  evidently  a  region  of 
gold-bearing  quartz.  In  the  neighborhood  of  Angel's,  I 
loticed  a  number  of  mills,  many  of  them  running  from 
twenty  to  thirty  stamps.  Some  of  these  mills  are  said  tc 
be  doing  a  veiy  profitable  business.  They  have  effectually 
stripped  the  near  hills  of  theii  former  forests,  to  supply  fuel 
for  the  steam-engines  and  beds  for  the  sluices  in  which  the 


172  AT  HOME  Ain>  ABROAD. 

gold  is  separated  from  the  crushed  rock.  The  bottoms  of  th« 
sluices  are  formed  of  segments  a  foot  thick,  sawed  off  the 
trunks  of  pine-trees  and  laid  side  by  side ;  yet  such  is  the 
wear  and  tear  of  the  particles  of  rock  and  earth,  earned 
over  them  by  the  water,  that  they  must  be  renewed  every 
two  or  three  weeks. 

We  found  Vallecitos  (an  intermediate  place,)  to  be  a  bran- 
new  village  of  about  three  hundred  inhabitants,  having  been 
burned  to  the  ground  a  fortnight  previous.  The  new  houses 
were  of  wood,  stuck  side  by  side,  like  the  old  ones  ;  and  the 
place  will  probably  burn  again,  every  summer.  There  was 
a  French  hotel  and  restaurant,  which  our  conductor  scorned 
— halting  before  the  "  Valhalla,''  an  open  saloon,  with  lager 
beer  attachment.  A  dinner  of  sour-krout  and  boiled  pork 
smoked  upon  the  table ;  but  the  beer,  which  should  have 
completed  the  three-fold  chord  of  Teutonic  harmony,  was 
decidedly  out  of  tune.  It  mattered  little,  however,  as  but 
five  minutes  were  allowed  us  for  the  meal. 

The  worst  part  of  the  journey  was  still  before  us.  The 
road  wound  for  two  or  three  miles  up  a  shallow  valley, 
walled  on  the  right  by  a  steep,  level  ridge,  which  denoted 
our  approach  to  the  Stanislaus  River.  In  a  dip  of  this 
ridge  is  the  reservoir  of  the  ditch  which  supplies  the  mines 
m  the  neighborhood.  Our  road  led  past  it,  and  over  a  low 
"  divide,''  into  a  glen  thickly  wooded  with  oak  and  pine. 
The  soil  was  very  stony,  and  our  progress  rough  and  pain- 
ful, though  rapid.  In  the  middle  of  this  glen,  where  it 
opened  to  the  sun,  stood  a  neat  farm-house,  with  a  melon 
patch  and  an  orchard  of  luxui'iant  fruit-trees.  Two  miles 
beyond,  crossing  a  ridge,  and  emerging  irom  the  thickest 


tnsw  pioruKES  fbom  califobnii.  173 

(Mrtion  of  the  forest,  we  found  ourselves  on  the  brink  of 
the  great  chasm  of  the  Stanislaus. 

This  pass,  or  gorge,  is  only  equalled  by  that  of  the  North 
Fork  of  the  American.  The  length  of  the  descent  is  about 
wo  miles ;  but  advantage  is  taken  of  little  spurs  and  shoul- 
lers  of  the  mountain  to  obtain  a  less  difficult  grade.  The 
river  was  invisible,  and  we  could  only  guess  its  distance 
below  us  by  the  perspective  of  the  misty  mountain-wall 
beyond.  The  scenery  was  of  the  most  grand  and  inspiring 
character.  Giant  oaks  and  pines  clung  to  the  almost  pre- 
cipitous steeps ;  clumps  of  manzanita,  covered  with  red 
berries,  fringed  the  road,  and  below  us  yawned  the  gul^ 
full  lighted  by  the  afternoon  sun,  except  to  the  eastward, 
where  its  sides  so  approach  and  overhang  as  to  cast  a  per- 
petual shade. 

I  walked  to  the  bottom,  but  preferred  riding  up  the  oppo 
site  ascent.  The  other  passengers,  who  trudged  on  in  ad- 
vance, found  their  advantage,  in  a  rest  of  twenty  minutes 
at  the  summit,  and  the  hospitality  of  a  farmer's  wife,  who 
regaled  thera  with  milk  and  hot  biscuits.  Before  fairly 
reaching  the  top,  I  was  surprised  to  see  traces  of  mining 
operations,  on  all  sides.  On  the  left  of  the  road  was  a  deep 
chasm,  resembling  a  tropical  barranea,  which  appeared  to 
have  been  entirely  excavated  by  art.  Beyond  it,  on  a  level 
tract  which  was  left  standing,  like  an  island  between  two 
arms  of  the  chasm,  was  an  orchard  of  splendid  peach-trees 
— ^the  branches  whereof  trailed  upon  the  ground  under  the 
weight  of  their  fruit.  In  the  east  rose  a  mountain-ridge — 
a  secondary  elevation  of  the  Sierra  Nevada ;  for  it  appeared 
to  overlook  all  between  it  and  the  central  line  of  snowy 


174  AT  BOMB  AND   ABROAD. 

pyramids.  We  entered  a  broad  basin,  inclining  to  th« 
Bouth,  and  drained  by  winter  streams,  which  join  the  Stan- 
islaus further  down.  Everywhere  the  soil  was  dug  up,  and 
turned  up,  and  whirled  upside  down. 

Presently,  cottages  and  gardens  offered  a  more  cheerfu 
sight,  and  the  reservoir  which  supplies  the  mining  cora- 
{»anies  of  Columbia  with  water  lay  spread  out  before  us 
like  a  lake,  reflecting  in  its  bosom  the  houses  and  spires  of 
the  town  beyond.  We  were  surprised  and  delighted  at  the 
extent  and  evident  stability  of  the  place.  The  population 
cannot  be  less  than  three  thousand.  There  are  solid  blocks 
of  buildings,  streets  of  stores,  a  wide  extent  of  suburban 
cottages  dotting  the  slopes  around,  and  all  the  noise  and 
life  of  a  much  larger  town.  The  airy  verandas,  festooned 
with  flowering  vines,  the  open  windows,  the  semi-tropical 
character  of  the  trees  and  plants,  make  a  very  different 
impression  upon  the  visitor  from  that  produced  by  Nevada 
or  Grass  Valley.  Although  scarcely  a  degree  and  a  half 
apart,  there  are  still  the  distinctive  traits  of  North  and 
South.  In  the  population  you  find  something  of  the  same 
difference — the  Northern  emigrants  taking  to  the  northern 
mines  by  a  natural  instinct,  and  the  Southern  to  the  south- 
ei'n. 

Columbia  and  Sonora,  towns  of  nearly  equal  size,  are 
only  four  miles  apart — rivals,  of  course.  The  broad  valley 
lying  between  is  probably  the  most  productive  placer  in 
California.  It  has  been  dug  over  a  dozen  times,  and  still 
pays  handsomely.  From  the  perseverance  with  which  every 
particle  of  earth,  down  to  the  bed-rock,  has  been  scraped 
away  in  many  places,  one  sees  that  the  soil  must  be  every 


NEW    PICruEES   FEOM    CALIPOENIA.  1^5 

where  gold-bearing.  Such  a  scene  of  ravage  I  have  never 
beheld.  Over  thousands  of  square  rods,  the  earth  has  been 
torn  and  burrowed  into,  leaving  immense  pits,  out  of  which 
project  the  crooked  fangs  of  rocks,  laid  bare  to  the  roots 
and  knotted  together  in  unimaginable  confusion.  A  sav. 
age,  coming  upon  such  a  place,  would  instantly  say :  "  Here 
the  devil  has  been  at  work !"  Our  road,  som3times,  was  a 
narrow  ridge,  left  standing  between  vast  tracts  where  some 
infernal  blast  of  desolation  seemed  to  have  raged.  I  was 
involuntarily  reminded  of  the  words  of  a  hornpipe,  more 
rowdy  than  refined : 

Did  you  ever  see  the  Devil, 
With  his  iron  wooden  shovel, 
Scratchin'  up  the  gravel 
With  his  big  toe-nail?" 

Here  was  the  very  place  where  he  must  have  performed 
that  operation.  The  earth  seemed  to  have  been  madly 
clmced  into,  rather  than  dug  out.  I  thought  I  bad  already 
seen  some  evidence  of  the  devastation  wrought  upon  Na- 
ture by  gold-mining,  but  this  example  capped  the  climax. 
It  was  truly  horrible.  Tou  may  laugh,  you  successful  ope- 
rators, who  are  now  fattening  upon  the  gains  drawn  from 
these  incurable  pits  ;  bxit  still  I  say,  they  are  horrible.  No 
'cultivation,  no  labor  will  ever  be  able  to  remove  such  scars 
rom  the  face  of  the  earth. 

I  found  Sonora  a  very  lively,  pleasant  place.  Many  intel 
ligent  Southern  gentlemen  are  among  the  inhabitants,  and, 
though  there  is  scarcely  a  greater  amount  of  fixed  society 
than  elsewhere,  what  there  is  of  it  is  genial  and  attractive, 
The  mining  operations  are  carried  on,  not  only  around  th« 


176  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

town,  but  in  it  and  under  it.  The  principal  street  is  com 
pletely  undermined  in  places,  and  I  even  saw  a  store  whicl: 
was  temporarily  closed,  in  order  that  the  cellar  might  bt 
dug  out.  The  Placer  House  had  been  burrowed  nndei 
w  Ithhi  the  past  year,  and  a  large  quantity  of  gold  extracted 
bome  of  the  inhabitants  seemed  to  think  that  the  whole  town 
would  be  gradually  removed,  until  all  the  houses  rest  on  the 
bed-rook,  below  which  there  is  nothing. 

If  a  vein  of  gold  could  be  found  extending  straight 
through  the  Sierra  Nevada,  there  would  soon  be  a  tunnel, 
jvithout  cost,  for  the  Pacific  Railroad  I 


9. — ^The  Big  Tbbbs  of  Calaveras. 

At  Vallecitos  (where  we  had  dined  the  previous  day,  in 
the  Valhalla  of  the  Teutonic  gods),  we  were  but  twenty 
miles  from  the  grove  of  Giant  Trees,  in  Calaveras  county. 
This  grove  was  one  of  the  things  which  I  had  determined 
to  see,  before  setting  out  for  California.  I  have  a  passion 
for  trees,  second  only  to  that  for  beautiful  human  beings, 
and  sculpture.  1  rank  arboriculture  as  one  of  the  fine  arts. 
I  have  studied  it  in  all  its  various  schools — ^the  palms  of 
Africa,  the  cypresses  of  Mexico,  the  banyans  and  peepuls 
l>l  India,  the  birches  of  Sweden,  and  the  elms  of  New  Eng 
and.  In  my  mind  there  is  a  gallery  of  mastej'-pieces,  which 
I  should  not  be  afraid  to  place  beside  those  of  the  Vatican 
and  the  Louvre.  Types  of  beauty  and  grace  I  had  already 
'—the  Apollo,  the  Antinous,  the  Faun,  even  the  Gladiator -• 
but  here  were  the  Heraclidae,  the  Titans ! 


/ 

HBW    PICrrUKES   FROM   CALrPOBNlA.  17? 

Besides,  on  the  American  Continent,  trees  are  our  truest 
antiquities,  retaining  (as  I  shall  show)  the  hieroglyphics, 
not  only  of  Nature,  but  of  Man,  during  the  past  ages.  The 
shadows  of  two  thousand  years  sleep  under  the  boughs  of 
Montezuma's  cypresses,  at  Chapultepec :  the  great  tree  of 
Oaxaca  is  a  cotemporary  of  Solomon,  and  even  the  sculp 
tared  ruins  of  Copan,  Palenque,  and  Uxmal  are  outnum- 
bered in  years  by  the  rings  of  trunks  in  the  forests  which 
hide  them.  In  California,  the  only  human  relics  of  an  ear- 
lier date  than  her  present  Indian  tribes,  are  those  of  a  race 
anterior  to  the  Deluge;  but  those  giants  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada  have  kept,  for  forty  centuries,  the  annual  record 
of  their  growth.  As  well  think  of  going  to  Egypt  without 
seeing  the  Pyramids,  as  of  visiting  California,  without 
making  a  pilgrimage  to  her  immemorial  Trees ! 

I  procured  a  two-horse  team,  with  driver,  in  Sonora, 

regardless  of  expense.     Mr.  E ,  whose  labors  were  now 

diawing  to  a  close,  also  accompanied  us.  We  had  but  two 
days  for  the  trip — in  all,  sixty  miles  of  very  rough  moun- 
tain-road— and  therefore  started  with  the  first  peep  of 
dawn.  As  far  as  Yallecitos,  our  road  was  that  which  we 
had  traversed  in  coining  from  San  Andreas,  crossing  the 
great  chasm  of  the  Stanislaus.  The  driver,  however,  took 
another  route  to  Columbia,  leading  through  a  still  more 
terribly  torn  and  gashed  region,  and  approaching  the  town 
from  the  eastern  side.  Here  were  huge  aitificial  chasms, 
over  which  the  place  seemed  to  hang,  like  Fribourg  over 
Its  valley.  The  multitude  of  flumes,  raised  on  lofty  tressle- 
work,  which  crossed  these  gulfs — the  large  water-wheel*— 
the  zigzag  sluices  below,  and  the  cart-roads  running  on  nar« 


17$  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

row  plaues  of  different  elevation  into  the  various  branchet 
of  the  mines,  with  distorted  masses  of  primitive  rook  stick 
ing  up  here  and  there,  formed,  altogether,  a  picture  so  vast 
and  gi'otesque  as  to  make  us  pause  in  astonishment.  I 
remember  nothing  like  it  in  any  other  part  of  the  world. 

We  breakfasted  at  the  Broadway  Hotel,  and  then  hagt 
ened  on,  in  order  to  reach  Murphy's  by  noon.  The  gulf  of 
the  Stanislaus  was  crossed  without  accident,  as  it  was  rather 
too  early  for  any  other  teams  to  be  abroad  on  the  road 
The  possibility  of  meeting  another  vehicle  is  the  one  great 
risk  which  haunts  you,  during  such  transits.  Near  Val 
lecitos,  while  crossing  one  of  the  primitive  bridges,  our 
"  off"  horse  got  his  leg  into  a  hole,  injuring  it  rather 
severely,  though  not  so  as  to  prevent  his  going  on.  The 
miners  carry  their  ditches  and  sluices  across  a  road  just  as 
they  please ;  and  in  order  to  save  a  few  planks,  bridge  them 
with  rough  logs  and  the  branches  of  trees,  interspersed 
with  irregular  boulders,  to  hold  them.  "  When  a  stick  is 
too  crooked  for  anything  else,  they  make  a  bridge  of  it," 
growled  the  driver,  who  threatened  to  tear  up  a  fence  or  a 
flume,  and  would  have  done  so,  had  not  the  bridge  been 
mended  on  our  return. 

At  Vallecitos,  we  left  the  road  to  San  Andreas,  and  took 
a  trail  leading  eastward  to  Murphy's,  an  old  mining-camp, 
four  or  five  miles  distant.  We  passed  though  a  succession 
af  shallow  valleys,  which  in  spring  must  be  lovely,  with  theii 
scattered  trees,  their  flowery  meadows,  and  the  green  of 
their  softly-rounded  hills.  They  were  now  too  brown  and 
dry — not  golden  with  wild  oats,  like  the  Coast  Mountains, 
but  showing  the  dull  hue  of  the  naked  soil.    In  one  of  th« 


NEW   PICTUEES   FROM   CAIJFOENIA.  1Y6 

broadest  of  these  valleys  lay  Murphy's — at  flourishmg  vil- 
lage until  ten  days  previous,  when  it  was  swept  away  hj 
fire.  This  was  the  fourth  mining  town  destroyed  during 
our  visit !  The  cottage  residences,  standing  alone  in  the 
midst  of  their  gardens,  escaped  ;  but  the  business  portion 
of  the  place,  including  the  hotel,  was  utterly  consumed. 

The  proprietors  of  the  hotel,  the  Messrs.  Perry,  are  also 
the  owners  of  the  Big  Trees.  They  enjoy  a  wide  repu- 
tation for  their  enterprise,  and  the  good  fare  wherewith 
they  regale  the  traveller.  They  had  already  erected  a 
shanty  among  the  ruins,  and  promised  us  dinner  while  the 
horses  were  feeding.  My  wife  was  kindly  received  by 
Mrs.  Perry,  and  I  was  overwhelmed  with  cordial  invitations 
to  stop  and  entertain  the  Murphyites — which,  to  my  regret, 
was  impossible.  We  had,  in  &ct,  a  miraculous  dinner — 
everything  was  good  of  its  kind,  and  admirably  cooked. 
What  more  can  be  said  ?  The  claret  was  supreme,  and  the 
pears  which  we  purchased  for  dessert  dissolved  in  inexpres- 
sible fragrance  upon  the  tongue.  The  farmer  from  whom 
we  procured  them  presented  me  with  a  watermelon,  Mr, 
P.  added  some  fresh  meat  for  om*  supper  at  the  forest  hotel, 
and  we  went  our  way  rejoicing. 

In  the  outskirts  of  the  village  were  encamped  companies 
of  newly-arrived  emigrants,  among  their  shattered  wagons 
and  their  weary  cattle,  an«i  we  met  numbers  of  others  on 
the  way.  From  Luther's  Pass  at  the  head  of  Carson  Val 
ley,  a  trail  turns  southward,  crosses  the  Sierra,  and  passing 
down  the  ridge  above  Silver  Valley  to  the  Big  Trees,  forme 
the  most  direct  road  from  Carson  River  to  the  Southern 
mines.    These  emigrants  were  now  at  the  end  of  their  toil 


180  AT  HOMB  AND  ABUOAD. 

and  sufferings ;  but,  instead  of  appearing  rejoiced  at  the 
deliverance,  their  faces  wore  a  hard  and  stern  expression, 
with  something  of  Indian  shyness.  The  women,  aa  if  con- 
scious that  their  sun-browned  faces  and  their  uncombed 
hair  were  not  particularly  beautiful,  generally  turned  theii 
heads  away  as  we  passed.  Dirty,  dilapidated,  and  frowsy 
as  many  of  them  were,  they  all  wore  hoops !  Yes,  even 
seated  in  the  wagons,  on  the  way,  their  dusty  calicoes  were 
projected  out  over  the  whiffle-treesby  the  battered  and 
angular  rims  of  what  had  once  been  circles !  It  was  an  exhi 
bitiou  of  sacrifice  to  fashion,  too  melancholy  for  laughter. 

The  valley  of  Murphy's  is  2,000  feet  above  the  sea,  and 
lies  at  the  foot  of  those  long  lateral  ridges  which  connect 
the  broken  ranges  called  the  Foot-Hilla  with  the  central 
ridge  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  The  distance  to  the  Big  Trees 
is  fifteen  miles,  with  an  additional  ascent  of  2,500  feet. 
Immediately  on  leaving  the  village,  we  entered  a  close, 
wooded  canon,  down  the  bottom  of  which  rushed  the  water 
of  a  canal,  as  if  in  its  natural  bed.  It  was  delightful  to 
drive  in  the  shade  of  the  oaks  and  pines,  with  the  clear 
waters  of  a  roaring  brook  below  us — clear  water  being  the 
rarest  sight  in  these  mountains.  Gaining  the  summit  of 
the  ridge,  we  drove  for  miles  over  an  undulating,  but 
rapidly-ascending  road,  deep  in  dust  and  cut  into  disagree- 
able ruts  by  the  wheels  of  emigrant  wagons.  Huge  shafts 
of  fir,  arbor- vi tee,  and  sugar-pine,  arose  on  all  sides,  and  the 
further  we  advanced  the  grander  and  more  dense  became 
the  forest.  Whenever  we  obtained  an  outlook,  it  revealed 
to  us  hills  similarly  covered :  only  now  and  then,  in  tlw 
hollows,  were  some  intervals  of  open  meadow.    The  ditch. 


SEW   PICrUKKS    FSOM   CALIFOBNIA.  181 

joining  from  far  up  in  the  mountains,  still  kept  beside  us 
sometinies  carved  in  the  steep  side  of  the  hUl,  and  some« 
times  carried  across  a  valley  on  a  wooden  framework  a 
hundred  feet  high. 

The  air  perceptibly  increased  in  coolness,  clearness,  and 
delicious  purity.  The  trees  now  rose  like  colossal  pillars, 
from  four  to  eight  feet  in  diameter,  and  two  hundred  feet 
I"  height,  without  a  crook  or  a  flaw  of  any  kind.  There 
was  no  undergrowth,  but  the  dry  soil  was  hidden  under  a 
bed  of  short,  golden  fern,  which  blazed  like  fire  where  the 
sunshine  struck  it.  We  seemed  to  be  traversing  some  vast 
columned  hall,  like  that  of  Karnak,  or  the  Thousand 
Columns  of  Constantinople — except  that  human  ai't  never 
raised  such  matchless  pillars.  Our  necks  ached  from  the 
vertical  travels  of  our  eyes,  in  order  to  reach  their  tops. 
Really,  the  V/estern  hyperbole  of  tall  trees  seemed  true, 
that  it  takes  two  men  to  see  them — one  beginning  where 
the  other  leaves  off. 

Our  progress,  from  the  ascent,  and  the  deep  dust  which 
concealed  the  ruts,  was  slow,  and  would  have  been  tedious, 
but  ior  the  inspiiing  majesty  of  the  forest.  But  when  four 
hours  had  passed,  and  the  sun  was  near  his  setting,  we 
began  to  look  out  impatiently  for  some  sign  of  the  Trees. 
The  pines  and  arbor-vitse  had  become  so  large,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  nothing  coidd  be  larger.  As  some  great  red 
shaft  loomed  duskily  through  the .  shadows,  one  and  then 
another  of  us  would  exclaim :  "  There's  one !" — only  to 
convince  ourselves,  as  we  came  nearer,  that  it  was  not 
Vot,  if  such  were  the  courtiers,  what  must  the  monarchs 
be  ?      We  shall  certainly    be  disappointed :  nothing  can 


l83  AT   HOME   AND    ABSOAD. 

fulfil  this  promise.  A  thick  underwood  now  appe&red, 
radiant  with  the  loveliest  autumnal  tints.  The  spraya 
of  pink,  purple,  crimson,  and  pure  gold  flashed  like 
sprinkles  of  colored  fire  amid  the  dark-green  shadowa 
"  Let  us  not  ask  for  more,"  said  I ;  "  nothing  can  be  more 
beautiful.'' 

Suddenly,  in  front  of  us,  where  the  gloom  was  deepest, 
I  saw  a  huge  something  behind  the  other  trees,  like  the 
magnified  shadow  of  one  of  them,  thrown  upon  a  dark-red 
cloud.  While  I  was  straining  my  eyes,  in  questioning 
wonder,  the  road  made  a  sharp  curve.  Glancing  forward, 
I  beheld  two  great  circular: — shot-towers  ?  Not  trees^ 
surely ! — but  yes,  by  all  the  Dryads,  those  are  trees  1  Ay, 
open  your  mouth,  my  good  driver,  as  if  your  two  eyea 
were  not  sufficient,  while  we  sit  dumb  behind  you  !  What 
can  one  say  ?  What  think,  except  to  doubt  his  senses  ? 
One  sentence,  only,  comes  to  your  mind — "  there  were 
giants  in  those  days." 

Between  these  two  colossi,  called  The  Sentinels,  ran  our 
road.  In  front,  a  hundred  yards  further,  stood  the  plea- 
sant white  hotel,  beside  something  dark,  of  nearly  the 
same  size.  This  something  is  only  a  piece  of  the  trunk  of 
another  tree,  which  has  been  felled,  leaving  its  stump  as  the 
floor  of  a  circular  ball-room,  twenty-seven  feet  in  diameter. 
Dismounting  at  the  dooi*,  we  were  kindly  received  by  the 
Doctor,  and  assured  of  good  quarters  for  the  night.  The 
sun  was  just  setting,  and  we  were  advised  to  defer  the 
mspection  of  the  grove  until  morning.  Seating  ourselves 
m  the  veranda,  therefore,  we  proceeded  to  study  The 
Sentinels,  whose  tops,  three  hundred  feet  in  the  air,  wer» 


•NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  189 

glowing  in  golden  lustre,  while  the  last  beam  had  passed 
away  from  the  forest  below  them. 

To  my  astoi  ishment,  they  did  not  appear  so  very  large, 
after  all !  Large  they  were,  certainly,  but  nothing  remark- 
able. At  first,  I  was  puzzled  by  this  phenomenon,  but  pre- 
■ently  remembered  that  the  slender  saplings  (apparently) 
behind  them,  were  in  themselves  enormous  trees.  In 
dwarfing  everything  around  them,  they  had  also  dwarfed 
themselves.  Like  St.  Peter's,  the  Pyi-amids,  and  every- 
thing else  which  is  at  once  colossal  and  symmetrical,  the 
eye  requires  time  to  comprehend  their  dimensions.  By 
repeatedly  walking  to  them,  pacing  round  their  tremendous 
bases,  examining  the  neighboring  trees,  and  measuring 
their  height  by  the  same  comparison,  I  succeeded  in  gradu- 
ally increasing  the  impression.  When  the  last  gleam  of 
twilight  had  gone,  and  the  full  moon  mounted  above  the 
forest,  they  grew  in  grandeur  and  awful  height,  until  the 
stars  seemed  to  twinkle  as  dew-drops  on  their  topmost 
boughs.  Then,  indeed,  they  became  older  than  the  Pyra- 
mids, more  venerable  than  the  triune  idol  of  Elephanta, 
and  the  secrets  of  an  irrecoverable  Past  were  breathed  in 
the  dull  murmurs  forced  from  them  by  the  winds  of  night. 

"  Thank  God  that  I  have  lived  to  see  these  works  of  His 
hand!"  was  the  exclamation  with  which  I  turned  away, 
reluctantly  driven  in-doors  by  the  keen,  frosty  air.  Before 
a  cheerful  fire  the  doctor  related  to  us  the  history  of  the 
discovery  of  the  grove.  When  I  was  on  the  Mokelumne^ 
in  1849,  its  existence  was  unknown.  At  the  close  of  that 
year,  some  miners,  prospecting  liigh  up  in  the  mountains, 
are  reported  to  have  come  upon  some  of  the  trees,  and  to 


184  AT   HOME   AND   ABE0A1>. 

have  been  laughed  at,  and  called  hard  names  by  Iheif 
friends,  on  account  of  their  incredible  stories.  In  the 
spring  of  1850,  however,  a  company  on  a  tour  of  prospect- 
ing, hunting,  and  general  speculation,  happened  to  encamp 
in  a  valley  about  four  miles  distant.  One  of  the  men, 
pushing  up  the  ridge,  alone,  found  himself  at  last  in  the 
midst  of  the  monstrous  grove.  He  was  at  first  frightened 
(I  can  well  imagine  it),  then  doubtful,  then  certain.  Re 
turning  to  the  camp,  he  said  nothing  about  the  trees, 
knowing  that  he  would  only  be  called  a  liar,  but  informed 
the  leader  of  the  party  that  he  had  found  signs  of  gold,  or 
of  deer,  higher  up,  and  oflfered  to  guide  them.  By  this 
device  he  brought  them  all  to  the  grove — and  the  story  of 
the  Big  Trees  soon  afterward  astonished  the  world. 

But  with  discovery  came  also  ruin.  After  the  first 
astonishment  was  over,  came  the  suggestion  of  a  speculative 
mind — "  Can't  some  money  be  made  out  of  this  here 
thing?"  A  plan  was  soon  formed.  One  of  the  biggest 
trees  must  be  cut  down,  barked,  and  the  pieces  of  bark 
numbered,  so  that  when  put  together  again  in  the  same 
order,  they  would,  externally,  exactly  represent  the 
original  tree.  Take  them  to  New  York,  London,  Paris — 
and  your  fortune  is  made.  How  to  get  the  tree  down  ? 
was  the  next  question.  A  mass  of  solid  wood,  ninety  feet 
in  circumference,  was  clearly  beyond  the  powers  of  the 
axe.  Where  was  the  saw,  or  the  arms  to  wield  it,  which 
could  do  the  work  ?  But  the  prospect  of  money  sharpens 
the  wits,  and  this  difficulty  was  finally  overcome.  Pump. 
augers  were  the  thing !  By  piercing  the  trunk  with  9 
great  number  of  horizontal  bores,  side  by  side,  it  migl:l 


NEW   PICTDKKS   FBOM   CAIIFOKNIA,  185 

finally  be  cut  asunder.  Augers  were  therefore  procured, 
and  two  sets  of  hands  went  to  Avork. 

After  a  steady  labor  of  six  weeks,  the  thing  was  done — 
but  the  tree  stood  unmoved  !  So  straight  and  symmetri- 
cal was  its  growth,  so  immense  its  weight,  and  so  broad 
its  base,  that  it  seemed  unconscious  of  its  own  annihilation, 
tossing  its  outer  branches  derisively  against  the  mountain 
winds  that  strove  to  overthrow  it.  A  neighboring  pine,  of 
giant  size,  was  then  selected,  and  felled  in  such  a  way  as 
to  fall  with  full  force  against  it.  The  top  shook  a  little, 
but  the  shaft  stood  as  before !  Finally  the  spoilers  sue 
ceeded  in  driving  thin  wedges  into  the  cut.  Gradually, 
and  with  great  labor,  one  side  of  the  tree  was  lifted :  the 
line  of  equihbrium  was  driven  nearer  and  nearer  to  the 
edge  of  the  base :  the  mighty  mass  poised  for  a  moment, 
and  then,  with  a  great  rushing  sigh  in  all  its  boughs, 
thundered  down.  The  forest  was  ground  to  dust  beneath 
it,  and  for  a  mile  around,  the  earth  shook  with  the  concus 
sion. 

Yet,  perhaps,  it  is  as  well  that  one  tree  should  be  felled. 
The  prostrate  trunk  illustrates  the  age  and  bulk  of  these 
giants  better  than  tho3e  which  stand.  We  learn  from  it 
that  the  wood  was  sound  and  solid  throughout ;  that  the 
age  of  the  tree  was  thirty-one  hundred  years;  that  it 
contained  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  feet  of  timber: 
and  that,  a  thousand  years  ago,  the  Indians  built  their  fires 
against  its  trunk,  as  they  do  now.  The  stump,  as  I  said 
before,  is  the  floor  of  a  ball-room  :  higher  up  (or,  rather 
further  off),  is  a  bowling-alley.  The  pine  trees,  forming 
the  forest  around  the  house,  though  apparently  so  small 


186  AT  UOM£  AND  ABROAD. 

average  sis  feet  in  diameter,  and  over  two  hundred  in 

height. 

Our  quarters  at  the  little  hotel  were  all  that  could  be 
desired.  Pure,  ice-cold  water,  venison,  delicious  bread  and 
butter,  and  clean  beds,  all  combined  to  make  us  regret 
that  our  stay  was  so  limited.  At  daybreak  the  Doctoi 
summoned  us,  and  we  prepared  for  a  stroll  through  the 
grove  before  sunrise.  The  great  Trees,  to  the  number  of 
ninety,  are  scattered  through  the  pine-forest,  covering  a 
space  about  half  a  mile  in  length.  A  winding  trail, 
ascending  one  side  of  the  glen,  and  descending  on  the 
other,  conducts  to  the  principal  trunks.  They  have  all 
received  names,  more  or  less  appropriate.  Near  the  house 
is  the  "  Beauty  of  the  Forest,"  really  a  paragon  of  colossal 
elegance,  though  comparatively  young.  Her  age  is  pro- 
bably not  more  than  two  thousand  years. 

How  cool,  and  silent,  and  balmy  was  the  stupendous 
forest,  in  the  early  morn !  Through  the  open  spaces  we  could 
see  a  few  rosy  bars  of  vapor  far  aloft,  tinted  by  the  coming 
sun,  while  the  crimson  and  golden  sprays  of  the  undergrowth 
shone  around  us,  like  "morning  upbreaking  through  the 
earth !"  The  dark-red  shafts  soared  aloft  rather  like  the 
great,  circular  watch-towers  of  the  Middle  Ages,  than  any 
result  of  vegetable  growth.  We  wandered  from  tree  to 
tree,  overwhelmed  with  their  bulk,  for  each  one  seemed  more 
huge  than  the  last.  Our  eyes  could  now  comprehend  their 
proportions.  Even  the  diiver,  who  at  first  said,  "They're 
not  so — condemned  big,  after  alll"  now  walked  along 
silently,  occasionally  pacing  around  a  trunk,  or  putting  his 
hand  upon  it,  as  if  only  such  tangible  proof  could  satisfy  him 


ITEW  PICTURES  FBOH  CALIFORNIA.  187 

We  first  visited  the  "Three  Graces,''  then  the  "Miner's 
Cabin"  and  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  The  two  last  are 
hollowed  out  at  the  bottom  by  Indian  fires,  which  have 
burned  themselves  central  chimneys  far  up  the  trunk. 
Either  of  them  would  give  shelter  to  a  family  of  moderate 
size.  The  next  group  bore  the  traces  of  fools.  Some  love- 
sick blockhead,  visiting  the  grove  in  company  with  three 
ladies,  one  of  whom  looked  coldly  upon  his  suit,  another 
sang,  and  another  did  something  else,  has  fastened  upon  three 
of  the  trees  marble  tablets,  inscribed  severally,  in  letter*, 
of  gold,  "The  Marble  Heart  (!)»  "The  Nightingale,"  and 
"  The  Salem  Witch."  I  said  to  the  Doctor :  "  Have  you 
a  ladder  and  a  hammer  about  the  house  ?"  "  Yes — why  ?" 
"  Because  if  I  were  to  remain  here  to-night,  you  would 
find  those  things  smashed  to-morrow  morning."  His  fur- 
tive  smile  assured  me  that  the  search  for  the  trespasser 
woiild  not  be  very  strict.  Miss  Avonia  Jones,  an  actress, 
who  was  there  a  short  time  previous,  bestowed  her  own 
name  upon  a  tree,  and  likewise  had  a  marble  tablet  pre- 
pared, regardless  of  expense.  Fortunately  the  tablet 
happened  to  reach  Muiphy's,  on  its  way  to  the  grove,  just 
before  the  fire,  and  was  destroyed.  Fancy  one  of  those 
grand  and  awful  trees  bearing  the  name  of  "  Avonia  Jones!" 
Even  Senator  Gwin,  as  I  was  informed,  had  his  name  cast 
on  an  iron  plate,  and  sent  to  the  Mariposa  Grove,  to  be 
placed  on  one  of  the  largest  trees.  Oh  !  the  pitiful  vanity 
of  our  race  I 

At  the  top  of  the  glen  stands  the  "Mother  of  the 
Forest."  ninety-three  feet  in  circumference,  and  three  hun 
ired  and  twenty-five  feet  high.     Her  bark,  which  has  beei 


188  AT   HOME   AND    ABKOAD. 

stripped  off  to  a  height  of  one  hundred  and  ten  feet, 
now  represents  her  in  the  Crystal  Palace  at  Sydenham 
This  was  wanton  wickedness.  She  now  stands  blasted 
stretching  her  bare,  reproaching  arms  high  over  the  forest. 
She  forms  part  of  what  is  called  the  "Family  Group,'^ 
numbering  twenty-four  trees.  Here  we  commenced  the 
return  trail,  and  soon  came  upon  the  "  Father  of  the 
Forest,"  which  surpasses  everything  else  by  his  tremendous 
bulk.  He  lies  upon  the  earth,  as  he  fell,  centuries  ago. 
His  trunk  is  one  hundred  and  ten  feet  in  circumference  at 
the  base,  and  his  original  height  is  estimated  to  have  been 
four  hundred  and  fifty  feet!  In  contemplating  him,  one 
almost  refuses  to  credit  the  evidence  of  one's  senses.  By 
counting  a  few  of  the  rings,  and  making  a  rough  estimate, 
I  satisfied  myself  that  his  age  could  not  have  been  less  than 
five  thousand  years  I  The  interior  of  the  trunk  is  burned 
out,  forming  a  lofty,  arched  passage,  through  which  you 
walk  for  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet,  and  then  emerge 
from  a  knot-hole  I  Not  far  off  is  another  prostrate  trunk, 
through  which  a  man  may  ride  on  horseback  for  more  than 
a  hundred  feet. 

There  are  a  variety  of  trees  named  after  various  States , 
also  the  "Old  Maid"  and  "Old  Bachelor,"  two  lonely, 
leaning,  dilapidated  figures,  and  "Pike,"  a  tall,  gaunt 
trunk,  not  so  inappropriately  named.  The  largest  of  all 
the  living  trees  is  called  "  Hercules,"  and  is,  if  I  mistake 
not,  ninety-seven  feet  in  circumference.  I  suggested  that 
bis  name  should  properly  be  changed  to  "  The  Patriarch." 
Young  trees,  sprung  from  the  seeds,  are  seen  here  and 
there,  but  the  soil  seems  insufficient  to  nourish  many  of 


NEW    PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  189 

them,  until  the  older  race  passes  away.  The  Doctor  called 
my  attention  to  a  new  and  curious  fact.  In  the  earth, 
completely  covered  by  the  gradual  deposits  of  centuries 
of  falling  leaves,  are  the  trunks  of  the  progenitors  of  these 
giants.  The  wood  is  almost  black,  and  has  a  dry,  metallic 
sound.  In  one  place  a  living  tree,  between  two  and  three 
thousand  years  old,  is  found  to  be  planted  astride  of 
another  trunk,  entirely  hidden  in  the  soil !  It  is  evident 
that  eight,  or  perhaps  ten,  thousand  years  have  elapsed 
since  this  race  of  trees  first  appeared  on  the  earth.  One 
is  bewildered  by  the  reflections  which  such  a  discovery 
suggests. 

During  our  walk,  we  watched  the  golden  radiance  of 
the  sun,  as,  first  smiting  the  peaks  of  the  scattered  giants, 
it  slowly  descended,  blazing  over  a  hundred  feet  of  their 
massive  foliage,  before  the  tops  of  the  enormous  pines 
were  touched.  This  illumination  first  gave  us  a  true  com- 
prehension of  their  altitude.  While  sketching  The  Senti- 
nel afterwards,  from  the  veranda,  the  laws  of  perspective 
furnished  a  new  revelation.  The  hostess  and  my  wife, 
standmg  together  at  the  base  of  a  tree,  became  the  veriest 
dwarfs.  Beyond  them  was  what  appeared  to  be  a  child's 
toy-cart — ^in  reality  the  wagon  of  an  emigrant  family, 
which  had  arrived  the  evening  before !  Some  of  the 
young  "  Pikes,"  expert  with  their  rifles,  brought  down  a 
few  cone-bearing  twigs,  two  of  which  the  Doctor  presented 
to  me,  together  with  a  large  stick  of  timber,  and  a  piece 
of  bark,  four  inches  thick,  of  a  golden-brown  color,  and 
with  the  softness  and  lustre  of  velvet. 

Botanists  have  now  decided  that  these  trees  are  akin  to 


190  AT   HOMft   AND    ABltOAD 

the  California  redwood,  Sequoia  sempervirens,  and  the} 
will  henceforth  be  known  as  the  Seqitoia  gigantea^  thereby 
settling  the  national  quarrel  as  to  whether  they  shall  bfl 
called    Washingtonia  or    WeUingtonia.     It    is    singulai 

hat  this  discovery  should  not  have  been  sooner  made :  a 
single  glance  at  the  cone  is  enough.  It  is  very  small,  not 
one-fourth  the  size  of  a  man's  fist,  containing  a  few  thin, 
laminar  seeds,  something  like  those  of  a  parsnip.  As  the 
tree  will  bear  a  degree  of  cold  equal  to  zero,  it  may  be 
successfully  grown  in  the  latitude  of  "Washington.  The 
growth  is  slow  at  first — so  the  gardeners  in  Sacramento 
and  San  Francisco  inform  me — ^but  increases  rapidly  as  the 
tree  gsuns  root. 

Since  the  discovery  of  this  grove,  three  others  have  been 
found,  showing  that  the  tree  is  not  phenomenal  in  its 
appearance.  One  of  these  groves,  near  the  head-waters 
of  the  Tuolomne,  lies  at  an  altitude  of  six  thousand  feet, 
and  contains  abont  fonr  hundred  trees,  but  few  of  which 
are  thirty  feet  in  diameter.  The  Mariposa  Trees,  on  the 
road  to  the  Yo-semite  Valley,  number  about  three  hun- 
dred, one  of  which  is  said  to  be  one  hundred  and  two  feet 
in  circumference.  Visitors  are  divided  in  opinion  as  to 
which  grove  is  grandest  and  most  impressive  in  its  charac- 
ter. But  he  who  would  not  be  satisfied  with  the  Calaveras 
Trees  is  capable  of  preferring  his  own  nondescript  cottage 
to  the  Parthenon,  and  his  own  crooked  legs  to  those  of 
the  Apollo  Belvidere. 

Taking  a  last  look  at  these  immemorial  giants  of  the 
forest,  as  they  stretched  their  tufted  boughs  sflently  in  the 
sunshine,  over  the  heads  of  the  vassal  trees,   we   drove 


NEW   PICTUKES   FKOM   CALIFORNIA.  191 

down  the  mountain  through  the  aisles  of  pine,  and  between 
the  gem-like  sprays  of  the  thickets.  In  four  hours  we 
reached  Murphy's,  dined  again  luxuriously,  and  then  sped 
away  for  Columbia,  where  my  evening's  work  awaited  me. 
It  seems  almost  miraculous  that  we  should  cross  the  great 
chasm  of  the  Stanislaus  for  the  third  time,  without  meet- 
ing another  team. 

10. — California,  as  a  Homb. 

At  last  we  packed  for  a  final  departure  from  the  moun 
tains.  The  trip  to  Stockton,  a  distance  of  about  fifty-five 
miles,  was  to  be  accomplished  in  a  single  day.  At  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning  we  took  our  seats  in  the  stage,  and 
after  picking  up  a  sufficient  number  of  passengers  to  fill  the 
huge,  swinging  vehicle,  emerged  from  Sonora  by' the  lower 
entrance  of  the  valley.  The  morning  was  chill,  the  road 
rough,  and  our  ride  remarkably  tedious.  After  we  had 
made  ten  or  twelve  miles,  the  sun  rose,  we  breakfasted, 
and  the  scenery  improved.  There  were  three  or  four  vil- 
lages on  the  road,  which  had  an  air  of  permanence  and 
prosperity,  but  the  valleys  were  too  narrow  and  too  entirely 
given  over  to  gold-mining  to  allow  of  farming  to  any  great 
extent.  The  road  was,  at  the  same  time,  stony  and  dusty, 
and  we  were  heartily  glad  when  the  settlement  at  Knight'a 
Ferry,  on  the  Stanislaus,  announced  our  exit  from  the 
mountain  region. 

Knight's  Ferry  is  a  smart,  busy  place  of  near  a  thousand 
inhabitants.  The  broad  bar  which  the  river  here  makes  is 
quarried  up,  and  trenched  in  all  directions  by  the  indefati 


192  AT   HOM£   AND   ABROAD. 

gable  gold-miners.  There  is  a  large  hotel,  the  chief  energy 
of  which  appears  to  be  expended  on  a  spacious  bar-room, 
well  supplied  with  ice  and  liquors.  We  here  changed 
stages,  having  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  only  thirty 
miles,  for  the  most  part  Of  level  road,  separated  us  from 
Stockton.  A  few  more  long,  sweeping  undulations — ^the 
(ast  subsiding  wav/.s  of  the  Sierra  Nevada — and  we  entered 
the  great  plain  of  the  San  Joaqnin.  We  lost,  it  is  true,  the 
pure  mountain  my,  the  blue  chasms,  the  splendid  pines,  but 
we  had  no  loi)/;er  the  dread  of  meeting  vehicles,  the  danger 
of  oveituiTis,  the  jolts  and  the  dry  quagmires  of  dust. 
Merrily  our  coach  rolled  along  over  the  level  floor,  between 
the  high  redwood  fences,  past  occasional  groves  of  live-oak, 
farm-lioufliG8,  dusty  orchards,  wind-mills,  turning  in  hot 
puffs  of  southern  wind,  and  stacks  of  shining  straw  or 
snowy  bags  of  grain.  Ten  rapid  minutes,  only,  were 
allowed  us  for  dinner,  and  by  two  o'clock  we  saw  the 
spires  of  Stockton  over  the  groves  of  scattering  oaks  which 
surround  the  town. 

Broad,  cheerful,  watered  streets,  suburban  gardens,  neat 
churches,  and  a  glimpse  of  shipping  in  the  tide-w«ter  slough, 
gave  us  a  pleasant  initial  impression  of  the  place,  which  was 
not  diminished  by  the  clean,  comfortable  quartera  we 
found  at  the  Weber  House.  How  delicious  it  was  to  sit 
m  the  open  French  windows,  watching  the  golden  afternoon 
light  deepen  into  sunset  color  on  the  blue  water,  the  groves 
of  oak,  the  church-spires,  and  the  dim  mountain-ranges  far 
away,  knowing  that  our  month  of  rude  mountain-travel 
was  over!  Repose  is  always  sweet,  but  never  more  so 
than  after  prolonged  fatigue. 


NEW   PICTURES   FBOM   CALIFORNIA.  193 

We  were  greatly  delighted  with  our  visit  to  the  resi- 
dence of  Mr.  Weber,  the  original  proprietor  of  Stockton, 
who  has  transferred  a  tongue  of  land,  between  two  arms 
of  the  slough,  into  a  garden,  and  built  himself  a  spacious 
house  in  the  centre.  There  is  no  more  delightful  villa  on 
Bellosguardo  or  the  slopes  of  Fiesole.  A  thick  hedge,  out 
side  of  which  is  a  double  row  of  semi-tropical  trees,  sur- 
rounds the  peninsula.  The  gate  opens  into  a  lofty  avenue 
of  trellis-work,  where  the  sunshine  strikes  through  pulpy 
bunches  of  amethyst  and  chrysolite,  while,  on  either  hand, 
beds  of  royal  roses  of  every  hue  (except  the  impossible 
blue)  fill  the  air  with  ripe  odor.  The  house  is  low,  but 
spacious,  with  wood-work  of  the  native  redwood,  scarcely 
less  beautiful  than  mahogany.  Vine-covered  verandas  sur- 
round it  and  keep  off  the  sun,  and  every  window  discloses 
a  vision  of  plants  which  would  be  the  glory  of  any  green- 
house on  the  Atlantic  side. 

In  Mrs.  Weber,  I  found  an  old  acquaintance  of  my 
former  visit.  Well  I  remembered  the  day  when,  hot,  hun- 
gry, and  foot-sore,  I  limped  up  to  the  door  of  her  father's 
ranche,  in  the  valley  of  San  Jose,  and  found  her  reading  a 
poem  of  mine  (no  author  ever  had  a  more  welcome  intro- 
duction!)— -when  her  father  saddled  his  horse,  and  rode 
with  me  to  the  top  of  a  mountain,  and  her  own  hands  pre- 
pared the  grateful  supper  and  breakfast  which  gave  me 
strength  for  the  tramp  to  Monterey.  It  was  pleasant  to 
meet  her  again  as  the  happy  mistress  of  such  a  princely 
home. 

The  garden  delighted  us  beyond  measure.  The  walks 
were  waist-deep  in  fuchsia,  heliotrope,  and  geranium ;  the 


194  AT   HOMB   AND   ABBOAD. 

lemon  verbena  grew  high  above  our  heads,  and  the  pepper 
trees,  with  their  loose,  misty  boughs,  hailed  us  as  old 
friends  from  the  skies  of  Athens.  A  row  of  Italian  cypress 
es,  straight  and  spiry  as  those  which  look  on  Florence 
from  San  Miniato,  were  shooting  rapidly  above  the  other 
growths  of  the  garden.  How  they  will  transform  the 
character  of  the  landscape  when,  at  last,  their  dark  obe- 
lisks stand  in  full  stature !  Here,  in  the  middle  of  October, 
all  was  bloom  and  warmth,  as  in  our  Atlantic  Augusts.  A 
week  or  two  of  heavy  rain,  in  November,  ushers  in  the 
winter,  and  the  balmy  skies,  green  turf,  and  sprouting 
daisies  of  January,  announce  the  coming  of  another  beau- 
tiful year.  What  a  country  is  this  for  a  home — if  it  were 
not  quite  so  new ! 

Our  passage  was  taken  for  Thursday,  the  20th  of  Octo- 
ber, so  that  but  few  days  were  left  us  on  Californian  soil, 
and  we  hastened  back  to  San  Francisco.  We  had  already 
overstayed  by  a  fortnight  the  time  which  we  had  allotted  to 
our  visit,  but  although  private  interests  and  sacred  ties 
alike  called  us  home,  we  could  not  conceal  an  emotion  of 
sorrow  and  regret  at  the  thought  of  leaving.  We  had 
found  many  kind  friends  in  San  Francisco,  so  that  the 
charm  of  human  associations  was  added  to  that  of  its  cli- 
mate and  scenery.  Besides  the  free,  liberal,  sensible  life 
of  the  place  has  its  separate  attractions.  The  society  of 
San  Francisco  is  a  combination  of  two  extremes — the  aris- 
tocratic and  democratic  principles  in  sharp  contrast — Puri- 
tanism in  religion,  and  Sunday  theatres— and  between  the 
two,  a  man  of  sense  and  reflection  finds  a  clear  space,  where 
he  may  live  and  move  untrammelled. 


JTEW  PICTURES  PEOM   CALIFORNIA.  106 

Or.  Wednesday  evening,  I  gave  my  final  lecture,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Protestant  Orphan  Asylum — making,  in  all, 
thirty-eight  lectures  in  California,  in  the  space  of  eight 
weeks.  As  the  first  attempt  to  transplant  the  Great  Insli 
tution  to  the  Pacific  Coast,  the  result  was  in  the  highest 
degree  cheering.  My  visit  was  made  at  probably  the  most 
unfavorable  period  of  the  year — at  the  close  of  the  dry 
season,  when  business  is  dull,  and  in  the  midst  of  violent 
political  excitement — yet  there  was  no  single  instance  of 
failure.  The  people  everywhere  showed  themselves  wide- 
awake, intelligent,  and  appreciative. 

Although  my  impressions  of  California  have  been  scat- 
tered plentifully  throughout  the  foregoing  sketches,  my 
readers  may,  like  myself,  feel  the  necessity  of  reproducing 
them  in  a  final  resume,  detached  from  my  narrative  of  per- 
sonal experiences.  During  the  interval  often  years  between 
my  two  visits,  I  traversed  the  three  continents  of  the  ancient 
hemisphere,  passing  through  all  zones  of  the  earth  (with 
the  exception  of  the  Antarctic) ;  and  therefore  possessed 
the  best  possible  means  of  verifying  or  correcting  the  im- 
pressions of  the  first  visit  by  those  of  the  second.  This 
circumstance,  I  trust,  may  give  additional  weight  to  my 
opinions,  even  with  those  who  may  honestly  differ  from 
them. 

The  first  thing  to  be  considered,  in  discussing  the  cha- 
racter of  a  new  country,  is  its  climate.  California  possesses 
the  great  advantage  of  lying  upon  the  western  side  of  the 
continent,  which,  as  compared  with  the  eastern,  is  an  iso- 
thermal difference  equal  to  ten  degrees  of  latitude.  Thus, 
San  Francisco,  lying  on  very  nearly  the  same  parallel  as 


106  AT  HOME   AND  ABBOAD. 

Richmond,  possesses  the  climate  of  Andalusia  and  Sicily— 
or  Jacksonville,  Florida,  on  our  Atlantic  Coast.  There  are 
local  differences,  however,  which  give  it  an  advantage  over 
countries  in  the  same  latitude  in  Europe.  Climate,  it  is 
well-known,  is  greatly  modified  by  the  character  of  the 
prevailing  winds.  California,  like  India,  is  exposed  to  the 
action  of  a  periodical  monsoon,  blowing  from  the  north 
west  during  the  summer,  and  from  the  south-east  during 
the  winter.  The  former  wind,  cooled  by  the  Arctic  current 
which  sweeps  downward  along  the  coast,  precipitates  fog 
as  it  meets  with  the  hot,  dry  winds  of  the  interior;  and 
the  summer,  in  the  valleys  of  the  Coast  Range,  seems  actu- 
ally to  be  cooler  than  the  winter.  In  the  same  manner, 
the  dry,  warm  south-east  winds,  coming  over  the  vast 
deserts  of  heated  sand  on  both  sides  of  the  Colorado, 
heighten  the  winter  temperature.  The  mean  temperature 
of  noonday,  throughout  the  year,  is  remarkably  equable, 
for  such  a  latitude.  The  seasons  seem  to  have  shifted  their 
parts,  the  winter  being  green  and  fragrant  with  flowers, 
and  the  summer  brown  and  bare  on  the  hills,  while  the 
forests  of  live  oak,  bay,  redwood,  and  pine,  rejoice  in  eter- 
nal verdure. 

A  record  of  temperature  has  been  for  nine  years  carefully 
kept  by  Dr.  Gibbons,  at  San  Francisco.  The  greatest  cold 
in  that  time  was  25°,  and  the  greatest  heat  98°.  Thesti 
may,  therefore,  be  taken  as  the  extremes,  showing  the 
utmost  range  of  the  thermometer.  The  difference  is  73°, 
but  the  average  annual  range  is  not  more  than  65°.  In 
New  York  and  the  New  England  States,  it  is  near  130°, 
At  San  Francisco,  in  1853,  the  maximum  was  88°,  and  the 


NSW  PICTURES   FROM  CALIFORNIA.  19t 

minimum  40°.  Another  peculiarity  of  the  climate  is  the 
difference  between  the  temperature  of  day  and  night.  The 
mean  daHy  range  varies  from  12°  to  23°,  being  least  in 
winter  and  greatest  in  summer.  The  nights,  therefore, 
throughout  the  year  are  of  a  much  more  uniform  tempera 
ture  than  the  days — a  fact  which  contributes  very  greatlj 
to  the  health  of  the  inhabitants,  as  well  as  to  the  vigor  of 
vegetation.  In  the  intei'ior,  where  the  heats  of  summer  are 
much  more  intense  than  in  the  coast  valleys,  the  difference 
Is  still  greater.  The  summer  thus  possesses  a  bracing  ele- 
ment in  the  midst  of  her  fiercest  fires.  California  presents 
the  anomaly  of  a  semi-tropical  climate,  with  all  the  inspiring 
and  invigorating  qualities  of  a  Northern  atmosphere. 

In  this  respect,  therefore,  our  Pacific  Coast  stands  une- 
qualled by  any  land  in  the  woi'ld.  It  is  not  without  draw- 
backs— for  the  cold  coast-winds  of  summer,  the  unfathom- 
able dust  of  autumn,  and  the  first  deluging  rains  of  winter, 
are  things  to  be  endured- -but  no  one,  except  a  fool,  expects 
to  find  absolute  perfection  on  this  planet.  The  dry,  pure 
air  possesses  no  taint  of  malaria ;  fevers  are  rare,  except  in 
a  few  localities,  and  the  great,  world-encircling  epidemics 
lose  half  their  violence.  The  statistics  of  San  Francisco 
show  that  it  is,  already,  one  of  the  healthiest  cities  in  the 
world.  As  a  place  for  the  development  and  the  enjoyment 
of  animal  life,  I  know  no  land  equal  to  California. 

The  peculiarity  of  the  climate,  combining  great  variation 
between  day  and  night — with  comparatively  little  variation 
between  winter  and  summer — seems  to  be  especially  favor- 
able to  vegetable  life ;  and  this,  I  suspect,  is  the  main  cause 
of  those  productions  which   have   astonished  the   world. 


198  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

• 

Sometliiug,  of  course,  may  be  attributed  to  the  virgin  vigwj 

of  a  new  soil ;  but  where  this  has  already  been  expended, 
as  iu  the  region  about  Los  Angeles,  the  same  results  are 
obtained.  With  the  exception  of  the  apple,  all  fruits,  froiii 
the  fig  to  the  pear,  from  the  pomegranate  and  olive  to  the 
gooseberry  and  currant,  thrive  better  than  elsewhere. 
With  regard  to  grapes,  the  average  annual  yield  is  four^ 
teen  pounds  per  vine.  When  all  the  vines  now  planted  are 
in  bearing  condition,  they  will  produce ^ye  million  gallons 
of  wine  annually.  A  more  wholesome  and  delicate  spark- 
ling wine  is  not  easily  found  than  that  manufactured  by  the 
Brothers  Sansevain,  who  bid  fair  to  reproduce,  on  that  far 
shore,  the  famous  "  Sansovino,"  the  praises  of  which  Redi, 
the  Tuscan  Bacchus,  sang  in  his  dancing  verse.  Let  me 
add  a  few  more  specimens  of  vegetable  production  to  those 
I  have  already  given.  The  California  Register  says :  "  A 
fig-tree,  four  years  from  the  cutting,  is  seventeen  inches 
around  the  stem,  twenty  feet  high,  and  bears  two  crops  a 
year;  a  grape-vine,  three  years  old,  yields  eighty  pounds 
of  grapes ;  a  tree,  three  years  old,  bears  fifty-five  apples, 
weighing,  on  an  average,  nine  ounces  each !'' 

The  six  months  during  which  no  rain  falls  have  not  the 
usual  effect  of  a  drouth  in  the  Atlantic  States.  The  grain 
is  all  ripe  early  in  the  season,  and  may  be  cut,  threshed, 
measured^  and  sold  (all  in  the  open  air)  just  as  the  farmer 
can  spare  time.  The  hard-baked  surface  of  the  earth  coverg 
a  stratum  of  moister  soil,  into  which  the  trees  thrust  their 
roots,  and  flourish  ;  and  though  the  velvet  turlj  which  is 
the  glory  of  northern  lands,  is  wanting,  yet  the  blue  lupin 
the  orange-colored  poppy,  and  other  salamandrine  flowers 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM    CALIFORNIA.  109 

jlossom  in  all  the  valleys.  I  saw  but  one  genuine  piece  of 
turf  in  California.  It  was  in  front  of  a  house  in  San  Jos6, 
where  it  was  kept  alive  and  fresh  by  artificial  showers.  Its 
dazzling  greenness  and  beauty  seemed  to  be  little  short  of 
a  miracle.  Trees,  vs^hen  transplanted,  require  to  be  caio- 
fully  watered  the  first  summer,  after  which,  they  are  geuft 
rally  able  to  supply  themselves.  Water,  which  is  struck 
eveiywhere  in  the  valleys,  at  a  depth  of  twenty  or  thirty 
feet,  is  sweet  and  good. 

So  far  as  scenery  is  concerned,  I  can  imagine  nothing 
h)velier  than  the  valleys  of  San  Jose,  Napa,  Russian  River, 
and  San  Ramon.  The  one  feature  which  they  lack — in 
common  with  the  landscapes  of  Italy  and  Spain — is  water. 
The  streams  which  traverse  them  in  winter,  become  dry, 
stony  beds  in  summer,  and  the  matchless  trees  which  adorn 
their  banks,  have  no  glass  wherein  to  mirror  their  beauty. 
In  all  other  respects — color,  outline,  harmony  of  forms — 
there  is  nothing  to  be  desired.  Even  the  great  plains  of 
Sacramento  and  San  Joaquin  are  redeemed  from  tameness 
by  the  superb  framing  of  the  distant  mountains  on  either 
side,  and  thus  are  far  more  beautiful  than  those  dreary, 
interminable  prairies  of  the  West,  which  fatigue  the  sight 
with  their  monotony.  The  scenery  of  that  portion  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada  which  I  visited  is  less  picturesque  and  strik- 
ing than  that  of  other  mountain-chains  of  equal  height, 
owing  to  the  uniform  character  of  the  great  slopes  betweei 
the  rivers,  buttressing  the  central  chain.  The  two  or  thre« 
exceptions  to  this  judgment,  are  Spartan  canon,  the 
region  about  Mokelumne  Hill,  and  Columbia.  The  valley 
^f    the  Yo-Semite,  further  south,  is  the  one  grand  and 


200  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

incomparable  feature  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  Furthei 
north,  however,  the  Shasta  Peak,  Lassen's  Butte,  and  thfl 
upper  valley  of  the  Sacramento,  present  a  new  series 
of  magnificent  landscapes,  forming  the  proper  vestibule 
through  which  to  approach  Oregon,  with  its  giant  cones  of 
(W)litary  snow. 

On  the  whole,  California  is  a  land  where  life  seems  to  be 
most  plastic — where,  so  far  as  climate,  soil,  and  scenery  are 
concerned,  one  may  shape  his  existence  in  the  most  various 
moulds.  Within  the  range  of  two  hundred  miles,  he  may 
live  on  the  mountains,  or  by  the  sea — among  pines  or  pome- 
granates— in  snow  or  flowers — ^in  the  maddest  whirl  of  busi- 
ness, or  in  dreamy  indolence — on  the  confines  of  barbarism, 
or  the  topmost  round  of  civilization.  Why  not,  then,  escape 
care,  consumption,  cold,  neuralgia,  fashion,  bigotry,  east- 
winds,  gossip,  and  chilblains,  and  fly  to  that  happy  shore  ? 
For  one  simple  reason :  It  is  too  new — too  recently  fallen 
into  the  possession  of  man — ^too  far  away  from  the  great 
centres  of  the  world's  life — too  little  touched,  as  yet,  with 
the  genial  influences  of  Art  and  Taste.  Life,  at  present,  is 
beautiful  there,  but  lonely;  and  so  it  must  remain  for  an- 
other generation  to  come.  In  the  valleys  of  the  Coast 
IJange,  Nature  is  in  advance  of  Man.  Gold  is  yet  King  — 
though,  I  think,  and  hope,  already  beginning  to  shake  a 
little  on  his  throne. 

Taking  into  consideration  the  fact  that  California  wm 

ettled  exclusively  by  persons  in  pursuit  of  wealth,  and  that 

noney-making  is,  more  especially  there  than  elsewhere,  the 

main  object  of  life,  the  character  of  society  is  far  less  cold 

and  sordid  than  might  have  been  expected.     Even  th« 


J!f£W   PICTUEES   FJSOM    CAUf  ORNIA.  201 

wealthy  circles,  composed  of  families  from  all  parts  of  the 
United  States,  and  of  all  phases  of  refinement,  have  lest 
pretentiousness  and  exclusiveness  than  the  same  circles  in 
New  York,  Philadelphia,  or  Boston.  There  is  a  genial  libe- 
rality, courtesy,  and  heartiness  of  demeanor,  which  is  as 
refreshing  as  it  is  unexpected.  A  highly  cultivated  persor 
would,  undoubtedly,  find  many  agreeable  associates  in  San 
Francisco — though  he  might  miss  that  vitalizing  influence 
which  a  productive  class  of  authors,  artists,  and  savans 
always  imparts  to  the  intellect  of  a  country.  These  are 
flowers  that  only  grow  after  all  other  kinds  of  growth  have 
been  in  a  measure  accomplished. 

The  influence  of  the  climate  has  already  made  its  impres- 
sion on  the  character  of  the  people.  They  will,  in  time, 
exhibit  the  same  combination  of  Northern  and  Southern 
peculiarities ;  and  the  result,  I  hope,  will  be  as  favorable 
to  their  moral,  as  it  undoubtedly  will  be  to  their  physical 
nature.  If  this  should  be  so — if  they  should  possess  an 
equal  capacity  for  action  and  repose,  warmth  without  fickle- 
ness, principle  without  coldness,  a  broad  and  genial  humar 
nity,  earnestness  combined  with  grace  and  softness,  and  a 
perception  of  life's  duties  in  the  midst  of  its  sensuous  enjoy- 
ments— ^there  will  at  last  be  a  happy  American-born  race. 
But  this  b  expecting  too  much.  I  confess,  when  I  look 
into  the  vile  pit  of  Ctlifornia  politics  (holding  my  nose  all 
the  time),  and  note  what  is  the  standard  of  honesty  in  pub- 
Uc  afiairs,  my  hope  grows  small.  It  is  no  worse,  I  must 
admit,  than  in  the  city  of  New  York — an  admission  which 
does  not  better  my  statement.  The  home  of  Literature 
and  Art,  however,  will  be  in  the  valleys  near  the  coast — 


202  AT   HOMB  AND   ABBOAD. 

Qot  among  the  scarred  and  tortured  hills  of  gold,  whtjr« 
official  misrule  most  flourishes. 

The  children  born  in  California  are  certainly  a  great  im 
provement  upon  those  born  among  us.  Nowhere  can  more 
i-osy  specimens  of  ^health  and  beauty  be  found.  Strong- 
limbed,  red-blooded,  graceful,  and  as  full  of  happy  animal 
ife  as  young  fawns,  they  bid  fair  to  develop  into  admirable 
types  of  manhood  and  womanhood.  To  them,  loving  their 
native  soil  with  no  acquired  love — knowing  no  associations 
which  are  not  linked  with  its  blue  skies  and  its  yellow  hills, 
we  must  look  for  its  proper  inhabitants,  who  vdll  retain  all 
that  is  vigorous,  earnest,  and  generous  in  the  present  race, 
rejecting  all  that  is  coarse  and  mean.  For  myself,  in  breath- 
ing an  air  sweeter  than  that  which  first  caught  the  honeyed 
words  of  Plato — in  looking  upon  lovelier  vales  than  those 
of  Tempe  and  the  Eurotas — in  wandering  through  a  land 
whose  sentinel  peak  of  Shasta  far  overtops  the  Olympian 
throne  of  Jupiter — I  could  not  but  feel  that  Nature  must  be 
false  to  her  promise,  or  Man  is  not  the  splendid  creature 
he  once  was,  if  the  Art,  and  Literature,  and  Philosophy  of 
Ancient  Greece  are  not  one  day  rivalled  on  this  last  of  in 
habited  shores  1 


III. 

A   HOME   IN  THE  THTJRINGIAN  FOREST. 


I. — ^Taking  Possession. 

JULT  1,    1861 

The  postillion  has  driven  off  down  the  hill,  the  letter 
carrier  has  brought  in  the  last  small  bundle,  the  landlady 
has  opened  the  rooms  and  initiated  us  into  all  the  mysteries 
of  closets,  cupboards,  and  cellars — and  here  we  are,  at  home  I 
I  herewith  take  possession  of  my  little  study,  with  its  one 
window  opening  on  the  mountains,  and  the  writing  cabinet, 
(as  small  and  plain  as  that  which  Schiller  used,)  and  feel 
myself  already  lord  and  master  of  the  cottage  and  garden, 
and  co-proprietor  of  the  landscape.  The  air  is  so  cold — 
after  six  days'  rain — that  we  have  kindled  a  fire  of  pine- 
splints  in  the  great  earthenware  stove.  The  fir-clad  moun- 
tains are  black  and  lowering,  and  there  is  really,  just  al 
this  moment,  no  very  cheerful  point  in  the  scenery,  unless 
it  be  the  Felsenkeller,  a  rustic  tavern  on  the  ridge  beside  as, 
where  the  beer  is  always  of  the  best. 


204  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

Nevertheless,  the  gloom  of  the  evening  is  conuterbalanced 
by  our  pleasant  feeling  of  independence — by  the  knowledge 
that  we  occupy  a  house  which  we  can  tf  mporarily  call  oui 
own,  conducting  our  housekeeping  as  we  see  fit.  The 
rooms  are  neatly  but  completely  furnished ;  a  little  baie, 
perhaps,  to  an  American  eye,  but  we  are  accustomed  to  the 
simplicity  of  German  life,  and,  moreover,  our  home  is  rather 
outside  than  inside  the  cottage.  Still,  it  is  well  to  know 
that  the  beds  are  of  fresh  linen,  that  the  supply  of  water  is 
ample,  and  that  the  cane  arm  chairs  in  the  drawing-room 
are  agreeable  to  sit  upon.  A  peep  into  the  kitchen  dis- 
closed the  surprising  fact  that  we  have  butter,  eggs,  salad, 
and  raw  Westphalian  ham,  and  as  Hanna,  the  tidy  servant- 
girl  who  awaited  our  arrival,  has  already  made  a  fire  in  the 
ponderous  range,  I  feel  that  our  supper  is  secure.  Let  no 
apprehension  for  the  morrow,  therefore,  disturb  our  first 
day  of  possession ! 

Really,  this  is  the  ideal  of  Travel.  Not  in  great  hotels, 
ivhere  one  lives  according  to  fixed  rules,  or  pays  enormously 
for  breaking  them — not  in  capitals,  where  the  levelling 
civilization  of  our  century  is  fast  annihilating  social  pecu- 
liarities, and  establishing,  so  to  speak,  a  uniform  gauge, 
adapted  to  all  nationalities,  can  one  feel  the  pulse  of  a 
foreign  life.  Men  must  be  studied  in  their  homes,  and, 
whenever  possible,  from  a  home  among  them.  We  must 
find  an  empty  cell  in  the  hive,  and  inhabit  the  same,  though 
it  be  in  the  character  of  a  drone.  What  the  tent — the 
wandenng  house  of  the  nomad — is  to  the  traveller  on  the 
Tartar  steppes,  the  furniehed  summer  residence  is  to  the 
stranger  in  most  European  countries.    But  one  must  not 


A    HOMB   nf  THE  ThSbINGIAN   FOBBST.  205 

like  poor  Tom  Hood,  on  the  Rhine,  be  so  ignorant  of  the 
language,  as  to  have  a  bunch  of  quills  put  on  the  table 
instead  of  a  fowl,  nor  so  wedded  to  his  home  habits  as  to 
make  himself  unhappy  because  he  cannot  retain  them.  With 
a  little  human  flexibility,  a  catholic  breadth  of  taste,  and  an 
entire  freedom  from  the  prejudices  of  the  Little  Peddlington 
in  which  most  men  are  born,  we  may,  without  sacrificing  a 
jot  of  our  individuality,  without  hazarding  the  loss  of  a 
single  principle,  live  the  life  of  other  races  and  other  cli- 
mates, and  thus  gather  into  our  own  the  aggregate  expe- 
nence  of  Man. 

This  is  the  true  HeimsJcringlay  or  World-Circle — the 
i.ompleted  sphere  of  life  on  this  planet,  which  he  must  tra- 
verse who  shall  write  the  yet  unwritten  human  Cosmos. 

— This  little  study,  I  find,  illustrates  a  truth  which  is 
known  to  authors,  and  to  none  else :  that  the  range  of 
thought  is  in  inverse  proportion  to  the  dimensions  of  the 
material  dwelling  of  the  thinker.  In  other  words,  the  nar- 
rower your  chamber,  the  wider  your  brain :  hence  poets 
seek  garrets  by  a  natural  instinct,  and  the  philosopher  who 
could  not  sling  a  cat  in  his  room  assuredly  never  felt  the 
need  of  that  diversion.  The  mental  labor  which  it  would 
be  difficult  to  perform  in  a  spacious  Gothic  hall,  would  be 
comparatively  easy  in  a  low  hut,  -with  one  window.  If  this 
journal  should  be  discursive — of  which  I  have  a  strong  pre- 
sentiment— the  reason  will  be  apparent. 

But  where  is  our  home  ?  A  familiar  spot  in  a  foreign 
land — distant,  happily,  from  any  capital,  except  that  of  a 
small  principality,  aside  from  the  highways  of  tourists,  yet 
embosomed  in  a  region  of  the  loveliest  scenery,  and  breath 


206  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

mg  an  atmosphere  of  song  and  saga.  Thflringia  is  the 
Heart  of  Germany,  embracing  the  scattered  Saxon  Duchies 
of  Gotha,  Weimar,  Meiningen,  and  Schwarzburg.  Its  soil 
has  not  only  witnessed  the  most  picturesque  episodes  of 
mediaeval  German  history,  but  is  the  home  of  the  faii'est 
traditions,  as,  in  later  years,  it  has  been  the  chosen  home 
of  poets. 

In  a  valley  on  the  northern  slope  of  the  mountain-range 
known  as  the  Thflringian  Forest,  separated  by  a  low  ridg<j 
from  the  Ducal  park  and  castle  of  Reinhardtsbrunn,  lies  the 
little  city  of  Friedrichsroda.  Although  claiming  a  remot° 
antiquity,  like  most  of  the  towns  hereabout,  it  was  fint 
brought  into  notice  by  Frederic  Perthes,  the  pious  and  su'j- 
cessful  publisher,  of  whom  you  have  doubtless  heard.  Tb«5 
beauty  of  the  scenery,  the  purity  of  the  mountain  air,  and 
its  proximity  to  a  number  of  attractive  or  historically  famous 
localities,  gradually  drew  strangers  hither,  until  the  city 
has  now  become  a  sort  of  summer  suburb  of  Berlin.  I  say 
"the  city"  intentionally,  for,  although  the  place  has  but 
2,300  inhabitants,  I  should  give  offence  by  calling  it  a  vil- 
lage. There  was  fonnerly  a  sculptured  head  with  wide-open 
mouth,  over  the  gate,  recording  the  fate  of  a  stranger,  who, 
on  his  arrival,  asked  "  what  is  the  name  of  this  village  ?" 
He  had  no  sooner  said  "  village^''''  than  his  jaws  became  set, 
and  his  mouth  remained  open ;  nor  could  he  close  it  until 
he  perceived  his  error.  The  place  was  best  known  in  the 
Middle  Ages  by  a  malicious  song  which  the  jealous  inhabit- 
ants of  the  neighboring  towns  were  accustomed  to  sing 
One  verse  thereof  will  be  sufficient : 


A   BOME    IN   TUE  THUEINGIAN   FOREST.  205 

"  Tell  me,  of  what  is  the  chureh-apire  made^ 
Oho,  ill  Friedrichsroda  ? 
They  took  and  killed  a  lean  old  cow, 
And  made  the  spire  of  her  tail,  I  trow, 
Oho,  in  Friedrichsroda  1" 

It  is  nearly  nine  years  since,  descending  from  the  heights 
of  the  Inselsberg,  I  first  saw  the  quiet,  peaceful,  pleasant 
little  city,  lying  in  its  green  valley-basin,  with  a  protecting 
rim  of  dark  forests.  I  then  made  some  acquaintances 
which,  in  the  course  of  time,  and  through  the  couise  of 
circumstances,  became  family  connections,  and  thus  it  is 
that  I  now  find  myself  here.  Three  years  ago  my  friend 
Dr.  K.  built  a  summer  cottage  in  his  garden,  above  the 
town,  on  the  ridge  between  Friedrichsroda  andReinhardts- 
brunn,  commanding  a  charming  view  of  both  valleys.  This 
cottage  I  kept  in  my  mind,  aiud  was  so  fortunate  as  to  secure 
it  before  leaving  home,  as  a  little  eddy  into  which  I  might 
whirl  and  rest  for  a  few  weeks,  out  of  reach  of  the  roaring 
stream.  My  predecessor,  Dr.  Petermann,  the  distinguished 
geographer,  left  no  inharmonious  associations  behind  him. 
The  invisible  pictures  of  Timbuctu,  and  the  White  Xile, 
and  the  Tanganyika  Lake,  which  no  doubt  cover  the  blue- 
papered  walls  of  my  study,  might  have  floated  out  of  my 
own  brain.  Palms  and  crocodiles  and  hippopotami !  They 
are  to  me  as  welcome  and  as  familiar  as  the  stately  fira 
which  I  can  see  by  lifting  my  head,  or  the  three  ravens  on 
the  grass  before  my  window. 

One  only  thought  disturbs  the  peace  and  seclusion  of  my 
mountain  home.  I  do  not  need  to  close  my  eyes,  to  see 
that  long,  imperial  street,  transformed  into  An  avenue  of 


208  AT   HOME  AKD   ABROAD. 

banners — to  see  the  sudden  blossoming  of  national  colon 
from  every  roof,  every  church-spire,  every  hilltop — to  see 
the  "  sun-burst"  of  Freedom  spreading  southward  in  a 
mighty  arc,  slowly  driving  before  it  the  black  oloud  of 
yranny  and  treachery.  I  see  my  noble  countrymen,  God 
bless  them  I  creating  a  race  of  heroes,  refreshing  our  slow 
commercial  blood  from  the  fountains  of  sublime  self-sacrifice 
and  purest  patriotism  ;  I  wait  for  the  tardy  messages  which 
reach  me  across  the  Atlantic,  and  with  every  new  instance 
that  a  great  people  is  thoroughly  in  earnest,  with  every 
illustration  of.bravery,  and  endurance,  and  devotion  to  the 
good  cause,  I  hear  a  voice  saying,  like  Henry  of  Navarre : 
"  Pends-toi,  brave  Crillon :  nous  avons  combattu,  et  tu  ri?y 
etois  pas  .^"  My  consolation  is,  that  if  "  they  also  serve, 
who  only  stand  and  wait,"  in  the  present  crisis  they  who 
aie  afar  from  the  field  of  action  may  yet  make  themselves 
echoes  of  the  battle-trumpets — ^interpreters  of  the  war-cries, 
to  these  millions  of  European  spectators. 

Yes !  Here,  at  this  distance,  I  see  truly  the  significance 
of  the  struggle.  Here,  where,  in  years  past,  I  have  com- 
bated hostile  opinions,  grappled  with  tough  monarchical 
prejudices,  and  exhausted  myself  in  endeavois  to  make  our 
political  system  clear  to  minds  which,  otherwise  well  in- 
structed, had  not  the  least  comprehension  of  its  character 
—my  present  diflScnlty  is,  not  to  show  that  the  rebellion 
hould  be  suppressed,  but  to  show  how  it  could  possibly 
have  arisen.  The  fatal  imbecility  of  Buchanan's  admin  is 
tration  has  seriously  damaged  our  prestige  abroad:  any 
hesitancy,  any  tampering  with  treason,  any  failure  on  the 
part  of  our  rulers  to  press  the  war  boldly  and  vigorouslj 


A    HOME     IN    THE    THURINGIAN    FOREST.  209 

to  a  conclusion,  would  complete  the  mischief.  In  Europe, 
it  is  our  republican  form  of  government  that  is  on  trial.  A 
despotic  assumption  of  power  would  injure  us  far  less,  in 
the  present  instance,  than  an  exhibition  of  weakness.  As 
an  orthodox  believer  in  self-government,  my^constant  pray- 
er is:  "God  preserve  us  from  the  shame,  the  ineradicable 
infamy  of  Peace  on  any  other  terms  than  the  unconditional 
submission  of  the  traitors  1 " 


The  postman  has  returned  with  a  manuscript-book,  in 
which  we  are  required  to  write  our  names.  At  the  same 
time  he  is  authorized  to  receive  "  contributions,"  which  go 
into  a  common  fund  for  the  preservation  of  the  forest-paths, 
of  the  numerous  benches,  or  "rests''  as  they  are  called,  and 
for  newspapers  for  the  reading-room.  The  latter  institution, 
I  have  discovered,  is  no  other  than  the  aforesaid  Felsen- 
keller,  where  one  can  read  The  Cologne  and  The  National 
Gazette^  it  is  true,  but  is  expected  to  drink  a  mug  of  beer 
at  the  same  time.  As  for  the  paths  and  benches,  there  is 
no  part  of  the  world  where  the  convenience  of  strangers  is 
80  carefully  consulted,  as  here.  The  entire  mountain-region, 
fifty  miles  in  extent,  resembles  a  private  park,  traversed  by 
macadamized  highways,  gravelled  foot-paths,  and  with  com- 
fortable benches  or  even  arbors  at  every  possible  point  where 
the  scenery  offers  any  attraction  for  the  eye.  Fancy  the 
White  Mountain  group  civilized  in  a  similar  manner!  This 
is  Nature  stripped  of  her  paint  and  feathers,  washed,  and 
her  nakedness  decently  covered.  You  may  admire  the 
strength  and  primitive  rudeness  of  the  savage,  but  you 


210  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

better  love  the  tamed  domestic  creature  who  sympaihuea 
with  your  cahn,  cheerful,  or  reflective  mood,  walks  by  joxu 
Bide  with  ordered  step,  and  can  sit  down  with  you,  quietly, 
Id  the  sweet,  rosy  silence  of  the  long  summer  evening. 


2. — ^How  WE  Spent  the  Fourth. 

July  4th— Evbioho. 

On  awaking  this  morning,  I  became  aware  of  an  unusual 
sound  of  hammering  about  the  cottage.  A  mysterious 
whispering  between  the  two  servant-maids  in  the  passage 
also  attracted  my  attention.  I  went  into  the  salon,  which 
opens  upon  the  veranda,  and  was  surprised  to  find  two 
long  ladders  reared  in  front  of  the  glass-doors.  Dr.  K. 
standing  on  the  grass-plot,  under  an  apple-tree,  appeared 
to  be  gazing  steadfastly  at  the  roof.  As  we  found  the 
house  in  admirable  condition,  I  was  curious  to  ascertain 
what  repairs  or  improvements  he  had  in  view.  There  were 
two  men  on  the  ladders,  employed  in  fixing  the  last  clamp 
to  a  flag-staff  which  rose  from  the  apex  of  the  gable.  Just 
then,  a  breeze  came  down  from  the  mountains  and  blew 
out  the  folds  of — an  American  flag !  Yes — our  national 
banner,  although  it  contained  but  six  stripes ;  for  the  good 
Dr.,  in  his  anxiety  to  give  me  at  once  a  surprise  and  a 
welcome  on  this  day  of  all  days,  had  been  more  kind  than 
correct.  But  the  stars  were  all  there.  The  whole  thirty- 
four  glittered  in  the  blue  field,  in  defiance  of  secession  ot 
corapromise ;  and  thus  the  first  American  flag  which  ever 


A    HOME   IN   THE  THURINGIAN   FOREST.  211 

waved  above  the  Thtlringian  Forest  was  no  symbol  of  a 
divided  Union  !  How  brightly  the  red  stripes  shone  against 
the  background  of  the  firs!  How  the  stars  seemed  to 
lighten  and  sparkle  in  the  morning  sun  ! 

To-day,  it  occurs  to  me,  is  ^he  pivot  on  which  our  politi 
cal  balance  turns.  As  the  men  who  this  day  meet  hi 
Washington  shall  decide,  shall  Honor  or  Disgrace,  Weak- 
ness or  Strength,  prevail.  I  am  so  far  away  that  the 
involuntary  conflict  of  hope  and  fear  is  worse  than  useless, 
and  before  these  words  can  reach  America,  the  doubt  will 
either  be  dissolved  in  hopeful  confidence,  or  deepened  into 
desperation.  This  much  is  certain  :  the  path  of  Honor,  of 
Duty,  of  Patriotism  is  plain — there  is  but  one.  Woe  to 
the  Republic,  if  that  path  be  not  followed ! 

— ^The  weather,  thus  far,  has  not  been  propitious  for  our 
contemplated  mountain  walks.  Unhappily,  after  a  fort- 
night of  splendid  weather,  it  rained  last  week,  on  the  day 
of  the  Seven  Sleepers !  This,  in  German  weather-prophecy, 
denoted  rain  every  day  for  seven  weeks  thereafter  ;  and,  this 
year,  the  rule  seems  likely  to  hold  good.  The  sun  rises  in 
cloudless  splendor,  but  by  seven  o'clock  the  sky  is  overcast : 
heavy  bluish-gray  clouds  drag  along  the  mountain-tops  : 
distant  thunder  is  heard,  and  presently  a  hard  showei 
eomes  driving  from  the  West.  In  half  an  hour  the  sky  is 
blue,  the  meadows  sparkle,  and  snowy  masses  of  cumuli 
topple  over  the  forests.  We  rejoice  at  the  prospect  of 
lovely  afternoon,  and  straightway  plan  an  excursion  to  one 
of  the  legendary  spots  in  the  neighborhood.  Perhaps  we 
are  already  under  way,  enjoying  the  warmth  and  sunshine, 
heedless  of  an  ominous  blackness  which  is  gathering  behind 


212  AX   HOMB   AND    ABROAD. 

the  Evil  Mountain — evil,  indeed,  to  us! — until,  suddenly 
the  sun  vanishes,  and  a  far-off  rustle  among  the  woods 
announces  the  inevitable  fate. 

It  is  singular  how  slight  a  degree  of  heat  suffices  to 
provoke  a  thunder-shower  in  this  region.  Even  to  an 
\inerican,  accustomed  to  sudden  changes  of  temperature, 
the  continual  vibrations  of  the  thennoraeter  are  far  from 
agreeable.  Two  or  three  hours  of  sunshine,  at  80°,  and 
you  see  the  gray  vails  of  showers  on  the  horizon.  Then 
tlie  air  is  suddenly  cooled  for  a  time,  but  becomes  close  and 
sultry  again  as  soen  as  the  breeze  fells.  The  latitude 
(nearly  51°)  is  partly  accountable  for  these  vagaries,  yet 
I  attribute  them  principally  to  the  fact  that  the  spine  of  the 
Thtlringian  forest,  which  is  only  about  three  miles  above 
us,  divides  two  weather  systems,  which  occasionally  over- 
lap each  other.  It  is  diflScult  to  realize  that  less  rain  falls 
here  annually  than  in  our  Middle  States,  and  I  am  inclined 
to  suspect  that  the  comparison  was  based  on  the  estimate 
of  a  single  year,  which  did  not  represent  the  normal  average. 
In  the  chronicles  of  the  country  there  are  accounts  of  years 
in  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries,  when  so  much 
rain  fell  that  the  harvests  were  destroyed,  and  thousands 
of  persons  died  of  hunger  and  of  a  pestilence  engendered 
by  the  rotten  grain.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  true  that  the 
streams  which  issue  from  these  mountains  are  remarkably 
mall,  and  but  slightly  swollen  after  heavy  rains.  The  deep 
bed  of  spongy  moss  which  forms  the  floor  of  the  forests, 
holds  much  of  the  moisture,  and  perhaps  accounts  for  both 
facts. 

An  atmospheric  phenomenon,  scarcely  known  to  us,  is  of 


A   HOME   m   THE   THUEINGIAN  FOREST.  218 

frequent  occurrence  here.  It  is  called  the  cloud-bursty  a 
term  which  describes  its  character.  The  clouds,  heavily 
laden,  and  balled  or  rolled  together  by  the  wind,  suddenly 
break  dovm  under  their  combined  burden,  and  discharge  a 
deluge  of  water,  which  often  occasions  immense  damage 
to  the  fields  and  herds.  Where  the  burst  takes  place  at 
the  head  of  a  narrow  valley,  an  instantaneous  flood  is 
formed,  from  ten  to  twenty  feet  in  depth,  uprooting  trees 
and  sweeping  houses  from  their  foundations.  A  few  weeks 
ago  the  town  of  Skohlen,  not  far  from  Jena,  was  visited 
by  one  of  these  cloud-bursts,  whereby  thirteen  persona 
were  drowned  and  more  than  twenty  buildings  destroyed. 
In  countries  which  have  not  yet  been  denuded  of  their 
forests,  such  a  phenomenon  is  less  likely  to  occur.  Rich 
ardson  describes  a  cloud-burst  which  overwhelmed  his 
camp  at  Tin-tellust,  on  the  frontier  of  Ashen,  in  the  Sahara, 
and  our  trappers  can  tell  of  others  on  the  plains. 

Hail-storms  are  so  frequent  and  so  destructive  in  North- 
ern Germany,  that  the  prudent  farmer  always  insures  his 
grain  in  the  Hail  Insurance  Company — a  regular  branch  of 
the  insurance  business.  The  hail-cloud  is  recognized  at  a 
distance  by  the  hard,  cold,  yellowish-white  color  of  its 
dropping  curtain.  Its  upper  edges  are  often  of  a  pale 
brownish  hue.  Even  when  it  passes  by  at  a  distance,  it 
chills  the  atmosphere  far  and  wide,  as  an  iceberg  chills  the 
sea-air. 

This  morning  dawned  so  brightly,  and  the  scattered 
clouds  hung  so  lazily  around  the  bottom  of  the  sky,  that 
we  felt  tolerably  sure  of  a  favorable  day  for  our  private 
festival.    At  ten  o'clock  the  postillion's  horn  announced 


214  Ar    HOME   AKD   ABROAD. 

uhe  approach  of  our  friends,  and  the  post-chaise  slowlj 
climbed  the  hill,  and  discharged  its  cargo  of  four  ladiea 
two  gentlemen,  one  child,  and  a  supply  of  meat  and  drink, 
at  our  door.  There  were  cordial  greetings,  for  we  had 
been  separated  three  days,  and  those  whose  hospitality  we 
had  so  often  enjoyed — or  rather  claimed  as  a  right — were 
now  for  the  first  time  our  guests.  To  honor  them,  as  well 
as  the  day,  I  had  sent  to  the  landlord  at  Reinhardtsbrunn 
and  ordered  six  pounds  of  trout,  fresh  from  the  tank. 
I  also  secured  a  supply  of  the  nobler  German  beverage,  as 
was  meet,  and  therewith  my  duties  ended. 

Our  guests  took  eager  possession  of  the  veranda  and 
garden ;  the  children  first  embraced  and  then  pulled  each 
other's  hair,  and  thus  the  festive  machinery  was  put  in 
motion.  In  Germany  one  does  not  need  to  go  around 
with  a  conversational  oil-pot  and  grease  the  individual  cogs 
and  cranks ;  the  wheels  turn  as  soon  as  they  touch.  It  is 
as  easy  as  rolling  a  snow-ball  down  a  steep  hill.  The  least 
impetus  is  sufficient.  The  ball  increases  in  volume  as  well 
as  in  swiftness,  and  the  only  danger  is  in  attempting  to 
stop  it.  This,  of  course,  where  the  material  is  not  too 
composite ;  though,  even  in  this  respect,  you  can  safely 
combine  more  various  elements  than  in  any  other  society 
I  know  of. 

In  England,  a  successful  dinner-party  is  the  result  of 
consummate  art.  The  social  ingredients  are  as  carefully 
measured  and  mixed  "as  in  a  sauce  or  a  salad.  The  oil  of 
Mr.  A.  is  secured  to  neutralize  the  vinegar  of  Mr.  B 
The  Misses  X.  are  the  chickens,  those  promising  young 
gentlemen  the  lettuce,  rich  Mr.  and  Mrs.  So-and-so  th# 


A    HC>irE   IN  THE  THUEIXGIAN    FOREST,  216 

'obster,  and  somebody  else  the  mustard.  The  host  is 
usually  the  spoon.  Here,  I  am  glad  to  say,  ther,e  is  more 
nature  and  less  calculation.  Repellant  substances  are 
avoided,  of  course,  but  the  attractive  quality  of  the  social 
atoms  is  much  greater.  Another  advantage — it  is  a  part 
of  German  politeness  to  talk.  A  "  wall-flower"  or  a 
"  dummy"  is  the  rarest  apparition.  Johaima  Kinkel,  with 
a  good  deal  of  truth,  calls  the  habitual  silence  of  many 
really  intelligent  English-women  a  laziness  of  the  jaws. 
Such  persons  have  no  scruple  in  shirking  their  share  of 
social  duty.  They  find  it  less  trouble  to  look  on  and  listen, 
caring  not  that  their  silence  becomes  a  rock,  against  which 
the  flow  of  social  feeling  is  turned  aside.  Who  does  not 
know  how  one  moody  individual  may  obstruct  the  sunshine 
of  a  whole  company  of  cheerfully-attuned  persons  ?  Soci- 
ety, while  offering  enjoyment  of  the  highest  character, 
imposes  a  corresponding  obligation — a  fact  which  many 
honest  and  worthy  people  seem  not  to  recognize. 

In  the  German  language  there  is  no  epithet  which  exactly 
translates  our  Avord  bore,  or  its  intensification,  vampire. 
The  nearest  approach  to  it,  "  lemsieder,^''  means,  literally, 
"  a  boiler  of  glue,"  and  applies  especially  to  a  man  who 
takes  you  by  the  button-hole.  This  fact,  alone,  indicates  a 
more  correct  social  culture — at  least,  so  far  as  the  social 
duties  are  concerned.  There  is  no  society  without  its 
faults,  which  have  their  root  in  faults  of  national  character. 
Of  these  I  shall  speak  at  another  time.  Let  me  now 
return  to  the  Fourth  of  July. 

There  was  no  reading  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
for  the  very  good  reason  that  we  have  no  copy  thereof 


216  AT   HOME   AND   A6B0AD. 

Neither  was  there  an  oration  portraying  the  greatness  and 
glory  of  Our  Country,  because  it  has  yet  to  be  demon- 
strated, by  the  last  and  severest  test,  that  our  country  ii 
truly  great  and  glorious.  On  this  day  of  this  year,  1861, 
orations  are  out  of  place.  But  a  divided  family,  united 
for  the  first  time  in  three  years,  took  their  places  at  the 
round  table,  and  when  the  trout  and  the  roast-beef  (quite 
as  much  an  American  as  an  English  reminiscence)  had 
disappeared,  a  young  German  spoke  thus:  "Seeing  that 
we,  whose  hopes  and  labors  are  directed  toward  the  esta- 
blishment of  German  unity  and  nationality,  cannot  be 
indifferent  to  the  preservation  of  the  American  Union, 
which  is  in  many  respects  the  realization  of  our  own  political 
ideas — seeing  that  so  many  of  our  countrymen  have  become 
American  citizens,  and  that  a  thousand  ties  of  blood  and 
friendship  unite  us — seeing,  moreover,  that  in  the  present 
struggle  we  recognize  a  conflict  between  Barbarism  and 
Civilization,  between  Anarchy  and  Order,  let  us  drink  to 
the  success  of  the  Defenders  of  the  Union,  and  the  triumph 
of  the  Good  Cause  !" 

We  all  rose  and  drank  the  toast  standing,  and  the  silvery 
clinking  of  the  glasses  was  like  a  peal  of  distant  bells, 
ringing  in  the  (let  us  hope)  not  distant  day  of  our  national 
redemption. 

After  one  of  the  inevitable  showers,  the  day  agair 
became  bright  and  balmy.  Our  arm-chairs  were  trans- 
ferred to  the  shadow  of  an  apple-tree  on  the  little  lawn, 
and  while  the  younger  ladies  indulged  in  a  somewhat 
irregular  game  of  ball,  we  enjoyed  anew  the  beauty  of 
the  landscape  in  the  enjoyment  of  our  friends.    At   oui 


A    HOME   IN    THE  THURINGIAN   FOEBST.  217 

feet  lay  Friedrichsroda,  its  tiled  roofs  croAvded  together  in 
a  long  line  through  the  middle  of  the  valley  The  slepea 
on  either  side,  divided  into  narrow  strips  of  grain,  varying 
in  growth  and  color,  are  evenly  covered,  as  with  a  ribbed 
selvct  carpet,  above  which,  dark  and  grand,  stand  the  fii 
forests.  At  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  facing  us,  is  tht 
Badger  Mountain,  rising  square  against  the  sunny  blue  and 
gold  of  the  distant  hills.  Southward,  wooded  to  the 
summit,  stands  the  Kernberg,  divided  by  a  shady  glen  from 
the  Praise-God  {GoUloh) — a  conical  hill,  from  the  western 
slope  of  which  rise  shattered  pillars  of  basalt,  the  topmost 
crowned  with  a  rustic  temple.  Between  the  Praise-Goa 
and  the  Wolf's-steep  opens  a  deep  mountain  valley,  gloom- 
ing purple  with  its  forests.  On  the  other  side  we  see  the 
profile  of  the  Abbot's  Mountain,  green  with  beeches,  over- 
looking Reinhardtsbrunn,  and  behind  it  the  Evil  Mountain, 
whence  comes  all  our  weather-woe.  Groups  of  summer 
guests  are  constantly  threading  the  lanes,  or  climbing  to 
the  benches  disposed  along  the  heights,  and  the  three  asses 
in  the  toAvn  are  always  in  requisition  to  carry  children  or 
female  invalids.  Women  pass  us,  laden  with  basket-loads 
of  hay  from  the  ifaeadows,  or  fir-twigs  from  the  hills ;  the 
men  work  among  their  turnip  and  potato  fields ;  carriages 
rattle  along  the  highways,  and  every  morning  and  evening 
we  hear  the  multitudinous  chime  of  the  cow-bells,  as  the 
herds  are  driven  out  to  their  pastures.  The  landscape, 
with  all  its  beauty,  is  full  of  life,  which  is  the  greatest 
beauty  of  all. 
The  evening  came,  and  with  it  the  postillion,  blowmg: 


218  AT   UOMK   AXD    ABROAD. 

"A  rose  in  bis  hat,  and  a  staff  in  his  hand, 
The  pilgrim  must  wander  from  land  unto  land ; 
Through  many  a  city,  o'er  many  a  plain, 
But  ah  I  he  must  leave  them,  must  wander  again  1" 

And  so  it  was  with  our  friends.  The  grandfathei  must 
back  to  his  telescope  and  the  new  comet :  there  were 
household  duties  for  the  women — expected  relatives  from 
afar :  each  was  bound  by  some  one  of  the  strands  which 
go  tc  make  up  the  thread  of  life.  And,  after  they  had 
left,  1  took  up  this,  my  own  particular  strand,  which  having 
spun  to  this  length,  I  now  leave  until  I  receive  a  fresh 
supply  of  material — silk,  or  flax,  or  spider-gossamer — any* 
thing  but  Cotton ! 


8. RBINHAEDTSBRUNTf,   AND   ITS   LeQEND. 

JtTLT  6,    1861. 

Within  a  mile  of  our  cottage  is  the  castle  of  Reinhardts- 
brunn,  one  of  the  summer  residences  of  Ernest  II.,  tho 
reigning  Duke  of  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha.  As  a  specimen  of 
landscape  gardening,  the  surrounding  pai-k  is  unsurpassed 
by  any  simDar  spot  on  the  Continent.  The  castle  is  built 
on  the  ruins  of  a  former  Benedictine  monastery,  which 
owed  its  foundation  to  one  of  the  most  romantic  passages 
of  Thtiringian  history.  The  first  landgrave  of  Thiiringia 
was  Ludwig  the  Bearded,  who,  in  the  first  half  of  the 
eleventh  century,  built  the  castle  of  Schauenburg,  (just 
beyond  the  Wolf-steep,  and  almost  visible  from  my  window,) 
and  made  himself  master  of  all  the  region  round  about 


A    HOME   IN   THE   THURIXGIAN   FOREST.  210 

His  eldest  son  Ludwig  succeeded  to  the  title  and  posses- 
sions. The  latter  was  a  stalwart,  handsome  fellow,  and  it 
is  perhaps  comprehensible  that  Adelheid,  ^vifeof  the  Count 
Palatinate  of  Weissenburg,  should  have  loved  him,  in  pre- 
ference to  her  husband.  Unfortunately  for  both,  the 
passion  was  mutual,  and  a  quarrel,  purposely  brought  on, 
resulted  in  the  death  of  the  Count  Palatinate,  at  the  hand* 
of  his  wife's  lover. 

A  year  afterwards  the  guilty  pair  were  wedded,  but  the 
matter  having  come  to  the  ears  of  the  Emperor,  Henry 
IV.,  he  ordered  the  landgrave  to  be  arrested.  The  latter, 
refused  to  obey  the  mandate,  but  was  finally  taken  by 
stratagem  and  confined  in  the  fortress  of  Giebichenstein, 
near  Halle.  Here  he  remained  two  years  and  eight  months, 
waiting  for  trial.  (Justice  appears  to  have  been  as  slow, 
if  not  as  blind  a  divinity,  then,  as  now !)  Finally,  weary 
of  the  long  confinement,  he  pretended  to  be  mortally  sick, 
and  was  allowed  to  see  a  servant  who  was  to  bear  his  last 
message  to  bis  wife.  The  servant,  however,  received 
orders  to  bring  the  landgi'ave's  white  horse.  The  Swan,  to 
the  meadow  below  the  castle,  on  a  certain  day.  When  the 
time  arrived,  the  landgrave,  who  continually  complained 
of  cold  and  was  wrapped  in  thick  mantles,  tottered  to  the 
wuidow  as  if  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  sun.  The  six 
knights  who  guarded  him  were  absorbed  in  a  game  of 
chess.  The  castle  was  built  on  a  rock,  overhanging  the 
river  Saale.  The  prisoner,  with  a  cry  of  "  Holy  Virgin 
Mary,  save  thy  servant!"  leaped  from  the  window.  The 
Jicintles  spread  out,  broke  the  force  of  the  fall,  and  he 
descended  safely  a  hundred  feet  into  the  water      A  fishing. 


220  AT  HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

bbat,  purposely  in  waiting,  picked  him  up,  and  in  a  fe^< 
minutes  afterwards  he  was  on  the  back  of  the  Swan, 
speeding  homewards. 

For  this  daring  feat  he  received  the  name  of  Ludwig  the 
Leaper,  by  which  he  is  still  known  in  German  history. 

Notwithstanding  the  matter  was  finally  compromised, 
and  the  landgrave  allowed  to  retain  his  possessions,  neither 
he  nor  his  wife  was  happy.  They  had  conscience  enough 
to  be  troubled  by  the  remembrance  of  their  crime  ;  and  so 
it  happened  once,  on  a  Good  Friday,  that  Adelheid  placed 
dishes  of  fowl  and  game  before  her  husband.  Whereupon, 
he  marvelling  that  she  should  expect  Mm  to  sin  in  this 
manner,  she  answered  :  "  Should  this  sin  be  worth  consider- 
ing, in  comparison  with  that  other  sin  whereof  we  have 
not  yet  repented  ?"  Both  wept,  and  consulted  as  to  what 
penance  was  proper.  The  result  was  a  journey  to  Rome. 
The  Pope  promised  them  complete  absolution,  provided 
the  landgrave  should  build  and  richly  endow  a  monastery, 
and  his  wife,  in  like  manner,  establish  a  nunnery.  The 
former  returned  to  his  home  in  the  Schauenburg,  and 
;)usied  himself  with  the  choice  of  a  site,  but  for  a  long 
time  found  himself  unable  to  decide  upon  one. 

His  attention  was  finally  directed  to  the  neighboring 
valley,  where,  deep  in  the  forest,  lived  a  potter  named 
Reinhardt.  There,  beside  a  strong  fountain  which  gushed 
from  the  earth,  this  potter  saw,  at  night,  two  lights  like 
candles,  which  disappeared  whenever  he  approached  them. 
The  landgrave,  having  himself  witnessed  the  phenomenon, 
accepted  it  as  a  sign  from  above,  and  founded  the  stately 
monastery  of  Reinhardtsbrunn  on  the  site  of  the  potter*! 


A    HOME   TN   THE   THCRINGIAN   F0EB8T.  221 

humble  i«)ttage.  This  was  in  the  year  1089,  according  to 
the  chronicles,  but  more  probably  in  1098.  A  few  years 
afterwards,  Ludwig  the  Leaper  became  a  monk,  and 
remained  in  the  monastery  until  his  death,  in  1123. 

The  place  was  completely  ransacked  and  destroyed 
during  the  Bau&rnhrieg^  or  Peasants'  War,  and  remained 
a  ruin  until  the  accession  of  Ei-nest  I.  of  Coburg  (father 
of  the  present  Duke)  to  the  sovereignty  of  Saxe-Gotha. 
This  prince  removed  the  tottering  walls  of  the  old  monas- 
tery and  built  a  summer  palace  on  the  foundations.  The 
material  used  was  a  warm  gray  sandstone,  found  in  the  neigh- 
boring mountain,  and  the  style  that  domestic  Gothic  which 
harmonizes  so  exquisitely  with  the  forms  of  a  Northern 
landscape.  The  old  Duke  also  restored  the  monkish  fish- 
ponds, and  completely  remodelled  the  gardens,  woods,  and 
meadows,  but  with  a  sparing  and  beautifying,  not  a  des- 
troying hand.  In  this  respect,  his  taste  was  admirable. 
He  appreciated  scenery  with  the  intuition  of  an  artist,  and 
knew  where  to  prune,  and  where  to  plant,  so  as  to  attain 
that  ideal  grace  and  loveliness  which  Nature,  unassisted, 
csan  never  reach. 

There  ought  to  be  some  better  name  for  this  faculty 
and  its  exercise.  "Landscape  gardening"  is  both  incon- 
gruous and  incomplete.  The  German  expression,  "Art- 
gardener,"  is  better ;  but  the  idea  of  a  garden  is  too  limited, 
when  the  artist's  plan  embraces  the  landscape  to  its  furthest 
horizon.  In  his  eyes,  all  its  features  are,  to  a  certain 
extent,  plastic.  That  which  he  cannot  change  or  remove, 
he  can  throw  into  perspective,  or  so  conceal  by  the  inter- 
rention  of  other  forms,  that  its  individual  ugliness   shall 


222  AT   HOME   AND   ABKOAD 

become  a  component  part  of  the  general  beauty.  To  cott 
tracted  spaces  he  can  impart  a  character  of  expansion 
dead  levels  he  breaks  by  picturesque  interruptions ;  hi 
works  not  alone  for  the  eye,  but  excites  the  fancy  by  stolen 
glimpses  which  liint  at  some  concealed  charm.  He  collecta 
the  wandering  rills,  and  opens  a  mirrored  under-sky,  to 
brighten  the  too  uniform  green  ;  he  arranges  his  trees  with 
regard  to  their  forms  and  tints,  to  the  lights  they  catch 
and  the  shadows  they  cast,  until  they  stand  as  far  in 
beauty  above  the  uncultured  woods  as  the  pediment-groups 
of  Grecian  temples  are  above  a  group  of  ordinary  men. 
He  sees,  like  the  sculptor,  the  suggestions  of  Nature,  and 
pilfers  the  graces  of  a  hundred  forms  to  blend  them 
harmoniously  in  one  ideal.  Should  not  this  Earth-smlp- 
ture  have  its  place  among  the  Fine  Arts  ? 

The  park,  or  garden-park,  of  Reinhardtsbrunn  (for  it  is 
neither  alone,  but  a  combination  of  the  two)  is  an  almost 
perfect  illustration  of  the  art.  The  lower  ridges  of  the 
Querberg  and  Reinhardtsbei'g,  thrust  out  at  light  angles  to 
the  axis  of  the  Thflringian  Forest,  inclose  it  on  either  side, 
and  the  lofty  Abbot's  Mountain,  a  part  of  the  main  chain, 
fills  up  the  intervening  space.  Northward,  the  brook,  fed 
by  its  ponds,  flows  toward  the  plain  through  a  narrow, 
falling  glen.  The  castle,  with  its  picturesque  confusion  of 
towers,  Gothic  gables,  and  quaint  out-buildings,  stands 
near  the  foot  of  Reinhardtsberg,  on  an  irregular,  natural 
terrace,  sloping  toward  the  water  on  two  sides.  The  land- 
scape visible  therefrom  has  a  length  of  two  miles  and  a 
half,  with  an  average  breadth  of  three-quarters  of  a  mile, 
Though  not  wholly  included  in  the  park,  it  is  subjected  tf 


A   HOME   IN    THE   THUBINGLAJSr   FOREST.  223 

the  artist's  will,  to  the  very  summits  of  the  mountams,  and 
the  transitions  from  fir-forest  and  meadow  to  the  shelvj 
terraces  of  roses  and  verbenas,  from  evergreen  to  decidu- 
ous trees,  from  ivied  castle  and  gravelled  avenues  to  the 
seclusion  of  bowery  foot-paths  and  the  sun-sprinkled 
shade  of  the  woods,  are  so  skilfully  managed  that  you  fail 
to  distinguish  the  boundaries.  You  see  but  one  rich, 
harmonious,  many-featured,  enchanting  picture. 

In  the  forms  and  colors  of  the  trees,  and  their  disposition 
with  regai'd  to  each  other  and  to  the  character  of  their 
background,  we  detect  that  art  which  never  appears  as  ait 
— never  can  offend,  because  it  is  developed  through  the 
ordinary  processes  of  Nature.  Plant  a  tree,  and  it  will 
take,  of  itself,  its  own  chain cteristic  form.  Nature,  how- 
ever, can  simply  produce  ;  she  cannot  combine  and  arrange. 
She  will  not  plant  yonder  weeping-ash  on  the  slope,  so  that 
its  outer  boughs  shall  just  touch  the  water:  she  will  not 
rear  those  purple  beeches  to  relieve  the  huge  green  masses 
of  the  ancient  lindens,  nor  give  the  silver  birch  an  airy 
lightness  and  distinctness  by  a  background  of  pine.  She 
plants  weeds  among  the  flowers  and  ripple-grass  in  the 
turf,  muffles  the  brook  with  autumn  leaves,  and  fills  the 
pond  with  sickly  water-mosses. 

Here  there  is  nothing  of  that.  She  is  kept  clean  and 
healthy  by  a  regimen  which  simply  aims  at  developing  her 
highest  beauty.  There  seems  to  be,  verily,  a  joyous  con- 
sciousness thereof  in  the  trees  and  flowers.  Nowhere 
stunted,  nowhere  deformed,  they  give  to  the  summer  the 
deepest  tints,  the  richest  undulations  of  foliage.  The  siui* 
beams  touch  them  with  a  softer  splendor,  and  their  shadowt 


224  '  AT   HOMK   AND    ABKOAD. 

have  a  clearer  purple  or  violet  than  elsewhere.  In  the  late 
afternoon,  when  golden  breaks  of  light  stream  down  the 
long  meadows,  between  the  oloudlike  gloom  of  the  forests, 
turning  the  turf  to  fiery  velvet,  smiting  the  lakes  and  the 
red-and- white  flag  on  the  floating  skifi";  when  the  banka 
of  flowers  burn  with  blinding  color,  and  the  venerable  fin 
of  the  Reinhardtsberg  take  the  hue  of  bronze,  and  the 
wooded  glen  beyond  swims  in  hazy  shadow,  it  is  the  land 
»cape  of  a  brighter  planet,  a  transfigured  earth. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  where  it  contracts  into  the 
glen,  there  is  a  spacious  inn,  which  has  a  wide  renown  for 
its  good  though  somewhat  expensive  cheer.  At  all  hours  of 
the  day,  unless  the  rain  is  unusually  hard,  the  out-door  tables 
and  benches,  under  the  shelter  of  the  firs,  are  frequented 
by  visitors  from  all  parts  of  the  Thtlringian  Forest.  We 
sometimes  go  thither  for  tea,  and  find  it  difficult  to  obtain 
places  among  the  crowd.  The  fat  waiter,  and  his  two 
juvenile  assistants,  go  back  and  forth  with  empty  or  foam- 
ing beer-glasses,  sausages,  black  bread,  raw  ham,  fermented 
cheese,  cucumbers,  salted  sardines,  or  trout  and  potatoes. 
The  German  supper  usually  consists  of  some  of  these 
articles,  each  of  which  has  a  positive  flavor.  The  cheese, 
even  in  the  open  air,  must  frequently  be  covered  with  a 
glass  bell,  on  account  of  its  powerful  odor  of  decomposi- 
tion. It  seems  to  improve  in  digestible  quality,  however 
in  proportion  as  it  becomes  insufferable  to  the  nostrils 
Beer  is  the  unvarying  masculine  beverage.  The  ladies 
drink  tea,  or  a  mixture  of  beer,  water,  sugar,  and  blacl 
bread,  which  is  called  "  music  /"  It  is  a  very  weak  bar 
mony  indeed. 


A   HOJIB   IN   THE  THUBINGIAU    FOBBST.  226 

It  is  singular  that,  with  their  fondness  for  the  open  air 
the  Germans  should  have  such  a  dread  of  "  draughts,"  ir 
houses  and  railway-carriages.  Doors  and  windows  ar€ 
closed  as  soon  as  there  is  a  motion  in  the  air.  On  enteiing 
a  shop,  on  a  warm  day,  you  are  generally  told  "Pray, 
put  your  hat  on ;  you  are  warm."  Nay,  this  goes  so  lar 
that  by  many  intelligent  persons  (hereabouts  at  least)  colds 
are  considered  contagious.  Possibly,  one  cause  of  such  a 
physical  sensitiveness  is  the  difference  of  temperatui-e  be- 
tween the  sun  and  shade,  which  is  more  marked  in  a  North- 
ern latitude.  Prof.  Bergfalk,  of  XJpsala,  told  me  thai 
during  his  first  summer  in  America  he  lived  in  great  dread 
of  the  draughts  to  which  he  was  exposed,  until  he  found 
that  his  health  did  not  suffer.  On  returning  to  Sweden, 
however,  he  resumed  bis  former  sensitiveness. 

— It  is  impossible  to  write  more  this  evening,  while  the 
sunset  beckons  from  the  mountains, — especially  when  my 
household,  bonneted  and  shawled,  is  beckoning  also.  I  am 
not  hard  to  move,  for  I  prefer  the  outer  to  the  inner  air, 
the  reality  to  the  description.  So,  here  is  the  laat  ink  I 
shall  shed  to-day.  Rest,  you  weary  steel,  that  are  not 
always  mightier  than  the  sword  1 


4* — ^Thb  First  Gbemaii  SHoorrao-MATCJH, 

JcLT  12,  1861. 
HxBE  is  already  a  considerable  gap  in  my  journal,  and 
the  reader,  referring  to  his  own  experience,  may  suspect 
that  my  undertaking  is  beginning  to  flag.     Only  the  most 


226  AT  BOMB  AND  ABROAD. 

ultrarinethodical  minds  are  capable  of  noting  down  theii 
"  thoughts,  feelings,  &c."  (as  the  school-girls  say)  day  aftei 
day,  whether  or  no  there  is  anjrthing  to  note.  For  my 
part,  having  so  many  a  dies  non  to  record,  I  have  nevei 
been  able  to  hold  out  longer  than  two  months,  except  upon 
my  journeys  abroad.  I  was  recently  very  much  amused  at 
finding,  among  some  old  papers,  a  journal  conscientiously 
commenced  at  the  age  of  ten,  to  be  continued  thenceforth 
indefinitely  ;  but  on  the  eighth  day  the  entry  stood — "  wea- 
ther cloudy,  and  I  find  it  impossible  to  keep  a  journal !" 

After  all,  I  presume  the  true  explanation  is,  that  a  jour- 
nal, to  be  really  worth  anything  to  the  writer  thereof,  must 
be  a  confessional  in  the  broadest  sense  of  the  word — a  record 
of  weakness  and  error,  as  well  as  of  good  deeds  or  good 
resolutions.  Everybody  agrees  that  the  true  history  of  one 
life  would  be  worth  all  the  romances  ever  written,  yet  no- 
body writes  the  whole  truth,  even  for  his  own  eyes,  lest 
Dther  eyes  should  accidentally  get  sight  of  it.  In  Stifter's 
story  of  the  "  Fortress  of  Fools,"  the  heads  of  the  family, 
in  a  direct  line,  write  their  own  secret  biography,  which 
each  one  places  in  a  rock-hewn  chamber,  whereto  he  only 
possesses  the  key — which,  with  the  obligation  to  continue 
the  history,  he  transmits  to  his  son.  The  result  is,  in  the 
course  of  a  few  centuries,  a  race  of  madmen.  There  are 
few  eyes  steady  enough  to  look  on  the  absolute  Truth — few 
bands  bold  enough  to  lift  the  last  veil  from  the  image  in  the 
temple  of  Sals. 

I,  however,  whose  journal  is  personal  only  so  far  as  I  am 
connected  with  scenes  and  subjects  which  may  interest  my 
friendly  readers,  am  not  troubled  by  these  considerations 


A    HOME   IN  THE  THiJRINGlAJT   FOBSSt.  227 

The  simple  fact  is,  we  have  all  been  absent  for  the  past  foui 
days,  attending  a  Pan-Germanic  festival  in  the  neighboring 
city.  The  great  popular  movement  which  now  prevails, 
from  the  Alps  to  the  Baltic,  has  for  its  basis  the  idea  wf 
National  Unity.  It  is  singular  to  note  how  unsteadily  the 
political  balance  is  held  in  the  hands  of  nations.  As  the 
scale  rises  in  one  hemisphere,  it  sinks  in  the  other.  Here, 
where  in  spite  of  the  jealousies,  the  hostilities  even,  of  a 
thousand  years,  in  spite  of  differences  of  character,  cus- 
toms, dialects,  ideas,  institutions,  and  creeds,  there  is  an 
earnest  desire  to  kindle  a  spirit  of  patriotism  which  shaU 
rise  above  all  narrower  distinctions,  and  lay  the  foundation 
of  one  great  and  homogeneous  empire :  while,  across  the 
Atlantic,  the  same  principle  is  violently  assailed,  and  the 
Nation's  blood  and  treasure  must  be  spent  to  prove  that 
she  is  a  nation,  in  fact.  The  miserable  divisions  from  which 
Italy  is  being  healed,  which  Germany  is  leaving  behind  hei 
by  sounder  and  safer  paths  than  she  chose  in  '48,  whick 
even  the  Slavic  and  Scandinavian  races  are  seeking  to  avoid, 
are  now  racking  our  political  frame.  Is  this  a  disease  from 
which  our  land  can  only  be  freed,  by  communicating  it  to 
another  ? 

Gotha  had  been  excited,  for  weeks  in  advance,  by  the 
anticipation  of  the  Convention  of  German  Riflemen,  wnich 
was  appointed  to  meet  on  the  8th.  As  this  was  the  first 
convention  of  the  kind  which  embraced  all  Germany,  and 
had  therefore  a  political  significance,  there  was  much  fear 
that  the  little  city  would  not  be  able  to  hold  all  her  guests. 
She  resolved,  at  least,  that  they  should  be  worthily  enter 
lained,  and  hei  citizens  (with  the  exception  of  the  nobility, 


228  AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

who,  for  the  most  part,  stood  sullenly  aloof,)  spared  neithei 
pains  nor  expense.  Hundreds  of  houses  were  opened  foi 
the  strangers  ;  flags  were  made,  wreaths  woven,  triumphal 
■rches  built,  and  prizes,  by  scores,  contributed  for  the  rio- 
tors.  Silver  goblets  came  from  the  Duke  and  Duchess,  thi 
Crown  Prince  and  Princess  of  Prussia,  Prince  Albert,  and 
the  Free  Cities ;  rifles  and  revolvers ;  sets  of  silver  spoons, 
cases  of  wine,  gold  watches,  embroidered  gun-belts  and 
game-bags,  shoes,  meerschaum  pipes,  cigars,  portfolios, 
cushions,  books  and  statuettes  ;  and  even  the  children's 
schools  in  the  neighborhood  brought  together  their  pfenr 
ninga  to  buy  some  trifle  which  should  represent  their  inter, 
est  in  the  festival. 

It  was  pleasant  to  witness  this  universal  sympathy  with 
a  movement  Avhich,  however  indirect  its  political  influence 
might  be,  was  at  least  directly  attacked  by  the  Reactionary 
Party,  and  therefore,  to  that  extent,  a  political  expression. 
I  rejoiced  with  my  German  friends,  not  only  for  the  sake 
of  Germany,  but  because  the  least  progress  anywhere  helps 
Progress  everywhere.  During  the  whole  of  last  week  the 
weather  was  watched  with  great  anxiety,  and  every  addi* 
tional  shower  was  welcomed,  since  it  lessened  the  proba- 
bility of  continued  rain,  in  spite  of  the  Seven  Sleepers. 
Even  when  Sunday  came,  and  dark  thunder-clouds,  rising 
in  the  West,  took  their  way  to  the  Thtlringian  Forest  or  the 
distant  Hartz,  they  said  "  let  it  rain  1"  The  companies  of 
riflemen  who  were  to  arrive  would  have  a  wet  reception,  it 
was  true,  but  better  that  than  have  the  grand  procession  on 
the  morrow  spoiled  by  a  storm. 

As  this  procession  was  to  be  organized  at  seven  in  the 


A  HOME  IN  THS  XHD£1XG1AN   F0BB8T.  226 

morning,  we  drove  over  to  Gotha  in  the  afternoon,  dui-ing 
an  interregnum  of  sunshine  between  two  storms.  The  tree« 
of  Reinhardtsbrunn  sparkled  with  unshed  rain-drops ;  the 
Horsel  Mountain  (the  home  of  the  minstrel  Tannhauser) 
stood  out,  bare  and  yellow  as  a  mountain  of  Palestine  against 
the  dark  sky ;  and  in  the  village  of  Wahlwinkel  the  wife- 
stork,  standing  up  in  her  nest,  was  drying  her  wet  wings  in 
the  sun.  Ah!  here  is  at  once  the  entrance  to  another 
digression :  but  no  !  I  will  avoid  the  by-path,  pastoral  and 
pleasant  though  it  be,  and  follow  the  highway  of  my  nar 
rative.     I  will  return  to  the  storks  to-morrow. 

From  afar,  over  the  trees,  the  old  banner  of  the  German 
Empire — black,  red,  and  gold,  in  horizontal  bars — waved  a 
welcome.  It  is  not  ten  years  since  these  colors  were  pro- 
hibited in  almost  every  part  of  Germany.  As  we  entered 
the  suburbs,  the  colors  of  Saxony  (green  and  white) 
and  Thiiringia  (red  and  white)  floated  from  every  house, 
subordinate,  however,  to  the  all-embracing  national  flag. 
The  streets  leading  to  the  railroad-station,  whence  came 
the  sound  of  music,  were  crowded  with  riflemen,  hurrying 
down  to  welcome  expected  coi"ps  from  abroad.  On  reach- 
ing our  family  home,  we  found  the  gentlemen  sporting 
badges  of  white  satin,  and  FrSulein  Hildegarde  trying  on 
her  wreath  of  oak-leaves  before  the  looking-glass.  She  was 
one  of  a  hundred  maidens  who,  thus  crowned,  in  white 
dresses,  with  scarfs  of  red,  black,  and  gold,  were  to  take 
part  in  the  procession. 

Presently  we  hear  the  yelling  of  two  locomotives,  which 
come  slowly  up  the  grade  fi-om  the  direction  of  Weimar, 
drawing  twelve  oaxH.    We  make  for  an  arbor,  overlooking 


280  AT   HOICE   AND   ABROAD. 

the  main  avenue,  up  which  the  strangers  must  march 
Trumpets  blow,  the  people  rush  past,  the  thunders  rattle 
out  goes  the  sunshine  and  down  comes  the  rain !  We  hud- 
dle together  in  the  leafy  house,  which  affords  but  slight 
rotection  against  the  driving  sheets  of  water.  But  in  half 
an  hour  the  sun  follows,  and  a  double  rainbow,  complete 
and  magnificent,  arches  above  the  Seeberg.  The  trumpets 
blow  again,  the  target-men  in  scarlet  caps  and  shirts  tramp 
by  with  the  baggage,  the  hacks,  garlanded  with  jflowers, 
follow,  and  tlien  the  riflemen  with  their  escort,  cheerfully 
keeping  step  on  the  muddy  road.  The  banners  and  the 
crowds  of  spectators  are  their  only  welcome.  There  is  no 
shouting — no  waving  of  hats.  The  Germans  have  not  yet 
learned  that.  They  have  been  kept  silent  so  long  that  they 
have  not  the  full  use  of  their  voices. 

In  the  morning,  we  set  out  betimes  for  the  market-square 
in  the  centre  of  the  city,  where  the  procession  was  to  form. 
I  had  the  honor  of  escorting  Hildegarde,  in  her  oak-wreath 
and  scarf.  From  under  the  linden  boughs  of  the  park  two 
other  German  maidens  sprang  out  to  meet  us,  and  the  three 
formed  a  vanguard,  before  which  the  crowd  fell  back  and 
made  us  a  passage.  The  market-square  lies  on  the  northern 
side  of  the  steep  hill,  crowned  by  the  castle  of  Friedenstein. 
Approaching  it  from  the  top,  we  looked  down,  as  into  an 
arena,  filled  with  waving  flags  and  moving  masses  of  men, 
and  sprinkled  all  over  with  glittering  points  of  color.  The 
gray  old  council-hall,  in  the  centre,  thrust  a  flag  from  every 
window,  and  shook  its  pendant  wreaths  of  oak-leaves  in  the 
wind.  The  fountain  was  hidden  in  a  pyramid  of  birch 
boughs,  and  daring  young  peasants  clung  to  every  '  coigo 


A    HOME   IN   TH£  THUKIN6IAN  FOKEST.  231 

of  vantage"  offered  by  its  layers  of  basins.  In  the  middle 
of  an  open  space,  kept  clear  by  gensd'armes,  the  chief 
marshal  was  riding  to  and  fro,  while  his  aids  stationed  the 
diflferent  deputations  of  riflemen  at  their  posts,  ready  tc 
fall  in  at  the  proper  time.  The  crowd,  thousands  in  num- 
ber, looked  on  in  silence. 

We  descended  into  the  square,  broke  through  the  guar^ 
ed  space,  and  took  leave  of  our  maidens  at  the  door  of  the 
council-hall,  where  ninety-seven  others  were  waiting  for 
them.  On  all  sides  waved  the  flags  of  the  various  German 
States — the  black  and  white  of  Prussia;  blue  and  silver  of 
Bavaria ;  red  and  yellow  of  Baden ;  fortress  in  a  red  field, 
of  Hamburg ;  the  Saxon  and  Thilringian  colors ;  the  tri- 
color of  Schleswig-Holstein ;  the  cross  of  Switzerland — and, 
over  all,  the  symbol  of  strength  and  unity,  the  red,  black, 
and  gold.  What  was  my  delight,  at  seeing  from  a  comer 
of  the  square,  the  stars  and  stripes  of  America ! — singu- 
larly enough,  the  only  foreign  power  thus  represented. 
Every  house  was  hung  with  garlands — principally  of  the 
German  oak,  looped  up  with  knots  of  roses,  and  disposed  in 
an  infinite  variety  of  forms,  but  in  every  instance  with  excel- 
lent taste.    The  general  efiect  was  exceedingly  beautiful. 

The  streets  through  which  the  procession  was  to  pass, 
were  similarly  decorated.  Occasionally  the  wreaths  were 
of  fir,  with  gilded  cones  as  pendants,  or  with  rosettes  of 
forget-me-nots  and  harebells.  Even  in  these  details  there 
was  a  national  significance.  You  may  be  sure,  whenever  a 
German  is  sufficiently  advanced  to  express  himself  bj 
means  of  outward  symbols,  he  always  puts  an  idea  behind 
them. 


232  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

We  followed  the  path  of  the  procession  to  the  ouiskirtt 
of  the  city,  where,  in  the  house  of  the  architect  S.,  hospi- 
table windows  bad  been  offered  to  us.  I  continued  my 
walk  to  the  shooting-hall  and  target-stands,  around  which 
^  court  of  show-booths  had  already  sprung  up.  There  wm 
a  menagerie,  in  front  of  which,  as  an  attractive  sign,  a  live 
elican  was  perched  on  a  high  post.  I  did  not  wonder 
that  the  bird  yawned  terribly.  There  was  also  an  "  Art- 
Cabinet,'*  with  "  Anatomical  Specimens" — the  "  Harbor  of 
Fortune,"  where  you  either  won  a  penny  plaything  by 
firing  off  a  pop-gun,  or  lost  your  penny — "Live  Bushmen 
from  Africa,"  and  two  carrousels^  or  flying-horses  for 
children.  In  spite  of  my  satin  badge,  I  was  refused  admit- 
tance into  the  shooting-grounds  before  the  arrival  of  the 
procession,  and  contented  myself  with  admiring  the  tri- 
umphal entrance,  the  work  of  my  friends  S.  and  S.  The 
square  gateway  was  composed  of  the  shields  of  German 
States,  set  in  frames  of  fir-twigs,  while  on  either  side  two 
lofty  masts,  spirally  wreathed  to  the  summit,  lifted  high  in 
air  their  crowns  of  banners.  From  the  centre  of  the  arch 
floated  the  colors  of  the  German  empire.  Really,  I  could 
find  no  fault  with  the  structure.  From  end  to  end  it  was 
arranged  with  admirable  taste,  and  the  moral  I  drew  there- 
from was  this :  "  why  cannot  our  officials  or  committees, 
on  such  occasions,  employ  artists  and  architects  as  well? 
Why  can't  we  put  round  men  into  round  holes  ?" 

Boom !  went  the  cannon  from  the  castle,  announcing 
that  the  procession  had  started.  All  the  church -bells  began 
to  chime,  a  circumstance  whereat  the  few  Reactionists  in 
Gotha  were  deeply  shocked.    The  road  was  already  lined 


A    HOME   IN   THE  THUKINGIAN   FOBfiST.  238 

«rith  expectant  crowds,  who  filled  the  banks  on  either  side 
while  the  central  space  was  kept  clear  by  mounted  gens 
d'arraes.  On  my  return  to  our  fidends  at  the  window  ] 
met  the  Duke,  already  on  his  way  to  the  shooting-ground. 
He  was  driving  a  span  of  dun-colored  horses,  with  black 
manes  and  tails,  and  with  such  a  skilful  hand  that  I  have  nc 
doubt  many  of  the  strangers  supposed  he  was  the  coach 
man.  I  took  off  my  hat  to  the  gay,  clear-eyed,  galliara 
Prince,  whom  I  had  recently  had  occasion  to  know  and  to 
honor,  as  a  man.  For  him,  it  was  a  well-d'^served  day  of 
triumph. 

Next  to  the  house  of  our  friend  S.  was  another  American 
flag  of  silk,  floating  from  a  wreathed  staff.  I  also  took  off 
my  hat  as  I  passed  it.  Everybody  knew  it,  and  looked 
upon  it  with  a  friendly  eye.  Suppose  it  had  been  the  Vii'- 
ginia  coat-of-arms  or  even  the  New  York  "  Excelsior  ?  " 
It  would  probably  have  been  torn  down  as  an  abortion — a 
counterfeit  of  nationality — even  granting  that  any  person 
had  known  what  it  meant.  State  pride !  State  fealty  para- 
mount I  what  wicked  nonsense  passes  for  wisdom  in  some 
parts  of  our  favored  Republic!  However,  there  is  not 
much  likelihood  that  the  starveling  Palmetto  itself  would 
have  been  recognized,  for  in  these  inland  European  cities 
the  people  know  but  little  about  national  symbols.  In  the 
garden  opposite  our  window  there  was  a  banner  of  Schles- 
wig-Holstein  (red,  blue  and  white,  horizontal),  which  the 
Turaers — who  ought  to  have  known  better — were  on  the 
point  of  tearing  down,  supposing  it  to  be  that  of  France  i 

A  blast  of  trumpets — a  stretching  of  the  necks  of  the 
orowd — an  increasing  murmui,  and  the  procession  comes  f 


-34  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

It  is  a  double  display,  for  the  Turners  of  Thiiringia  hold 
their  convention  in  Gotha  at  the  same  time,  and  have 
joined  their  forces  to  those  of  the  riflemen.  The  former 
first  appear,  preceded  by  music,  and  graced  by  the  pre- 
sence of  a  second  hundred  of  maidens  in  white,  with 
wreaths  of  white  flowers  and  rose-colored  scarfs.  Our 
friend  E.,  as  Grand  Marshal,  rides  in  advance,  and  his  baton 
bends  us  a  solemn  greeting.  Then  come  the  Turners.  Ah ! 
here  is  some  sign  of  life,  but  not  from  the  spectators. 
They  are  simply  silent  and  curious.  The  various  deputa- 
tions greet  our  ladies  with  genuine  cheers ;  mild,  indeed, 
but  well  meant.  Handkerchiefs  flourish  acknowledgment. 
Students  in  velvet  caps  wave  their  swords,  banners  dip, 
and  the  trumpets  blow  Q.fanfaron^  as  they  pass.  Hurrah  I 
hurrah  !  I  should  like  to  shout,  but  ther«  is  no  one  to  join 
me.  Young,  gallant  fellows,  in  gray  linen,  they  can  do 
something  else  besides  spring  over  bars  and  climb  ladders, 
hand  over  hand. 

M.  counts  the  maidens,  who  seem  to  be  portioned  oflT  as 
angelic  escorts  to  the  standard-bearers,  to  the  hundredth. 
Now  come  the  riflemen !  The  band  plays  "  Schleswig- 
Holstein,  sea-surrounded,"  as  they  pass  the  tri-colored  flag. 
I  wish  they  knew  the  Star-Spangled  Banner,  but  they 
•ion't.  Here  is  Hildegarde,  in  the  van,  shaking  her  bou- 
quet at  our  window.  The  tall  brother  follows,  in  a  white 
^ash.  Then,  company  after  company  of  riflemen,  in  plain 
gray  or  blue  fatigue  uniform,  but  preceded  by  officers  in 
astonishing  costume.  Who  are  these  in  green  and  gold, 
with  such  plumed  chapeaux,  such  excessive  epaulets,  such 
length  of  sword  ?      Generals  ?  Field-Marshals  ?  you  ask 


A   UOMB  IS  THB  THUBINGIAN  FOBBST.  286 

By  no  means,  my  friend :  they  are  not  even  soldiers.  It  ifi 
some  relief  to  know  that  the  vanity  of  seeing  oneself  in 
"  full  regimentals  "  is  not  confined  to  our  militia  officers  at 
home.  Some  of  the  banners,  however,  tattered  and  rid- 
dled in  former  wars,  were  genuine.  The  number  of  per- 
sona in  the  procession  is  certainly  over  two  thousand,  and 
the  spectators  nnmber  at  least  twenty  thousand.  It  is  not 
a  larp)  affair,  compared  with  some  of  our  political  gather- 
ings, but  in  point  of  order,  taste,  harmony,  and  effect,  I 
have  never  seen  it  surpassed. 

Ilie  presence  of  the  two  hundred  maidens  was  deddedly 
the  most  pleasing  feature  of  the  display — to  the  eye,  at 
Iea>it.  The  flowing  lines  of  the  white  robes,  the  soft  gleam 
of  the  colored  scarfs,  and  the  bright  flush  of  the  girlish 
fkf,es,  wound  like  a  thread  of  grace  and  beauty  through 
the  long  files  of  the  men.  Here,  again,  one  recognizes  the 
artistic  sense,  if  not  the  direct  arrangement  of  an  artist. 

Another  lesson  of  the  festival  was  afforded  by  the  per- 
fect order  preserved  by  the  spectators,  thousands  of  whom 
were  peasants  from  the  surrounding  country.  The  very 
freedom  which  was  allowed  was  in  itself  a  guarantee  of 
order — a  fact  which  the  Continental  governments  are  slow 
to  learn. 

But — ^here  is  the  end  of  the  procession,  and  of  to-day*» 
rhapter. 


286  AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


6. — The  Same.  Continubd. 

July  13,  186L 
FiBST — ^To  resume  the  interrupted  narrative : — 
After  the  procession  had  passed,  we  descended  from  ouj 
W'indows  and  followed  in  the  rear,  designing  to  enter  the 
inclosure  in  season  to  hear  the  Duke's  address  of  welcome, 
and  the  song,  "  The  German  Tri-color,"  to  which  he  had 
himself  composed  the  music.  But,  on  reaching  the  gate- 
way, we  were  informed,  "  Ladies  cannot  be  admitted  at 
present."  This  portion  of  the  party,  supposing  it  to  be  a 
precautionary  measure,  on  account  of  the  crowd,  returned, 
and  I  entered  in  company  with  a  Russian  relative.  To  my 
surprise,  there  was  ample  space  within,  and  the  prohibition 
was  a  gratuitous  rudeness.  By  this  time  the  address  had 
been  delivered,  and  the  strains  of  the  song  were  swallowed 
up  in  the  noise  of  the  multitude. 

The  Duke's  speech  occupied  about  four  minutes  in  deli- 
very. I  know  some  persons  who,  under  similai  circum- 
stances, would  not  have  let  us  off  under  three-quarters  ot 
an  hour.  After  referring  to  that  new  direction  of  the 
popular  ideas  which  had  called  forth  the  festival,  he  said, 
in  a  firm,  decided  tone:  "Strength  and  skill  shall  to-day 
mite  m  emulation  for  prizes,  in  order  that  the  individual, 
elevated  by  the  consciousness  of  his  own  value,  may  become 
more  valuable  to  the  entire  people.  The  chief  aim  of  these 
mutual  endeavors  should  be  the  protection  of  the  great 
German  Fatherland,  and  the  preservation  of  its  honor. 
With  such  feelings  let  us  reach  to  one  another  the  fi-atemaf 


A   HOMJS  IN   THE  THCEINGIAN   POKEST.  23"} 

hand !"  Many  of  the  riflemen  from  abroad,  who  were 
accustomed  to  see  their  own  rulers  surrounded  by  the  most 
rigid  ceremonials,  were  astonished  at  the  manly  simplicity 
for  which  Ernest  11.  is  distinguished.  It  was  amusing  to 
hear  their  remarks :  "  Why,  he  took  off  his  hat  to  us !" 
**  He  wears  a  plain  citizen's  dress — not  even  a  st&r  on  his 
breast !"     "  Ah,  that's  the  right  sort  of  a  Prince  I" 

Two  riflemen  who  were  quartered  in  our  residence  were 
loud  in  their  expressions  of  delight.  "  Why,"  said  one  of 
them,  "  it's  really  comical  to  see  your  Duke  I"  "  Why  so  ?" 
I  asked — not  knowing  that  "  comical,"  in  his  dialect,  ex- 
pressed the  highest  admiration.  "  You  see,"  he  said,  "  I 
once  had  the  honor  of  standing  before  our  King.  Ah,  ha! 
bow  down,  and  be  silent:  don't  you  recognize  the  dl\\- 
nity  ?  But  here — ^he's  a  man,  like  ourselves — yes,  actually 
a  human  being !  He  walks,  and  talks,  and  lets  the  sun 
shine  without  his  permission.  Why,  there  was  a  gentleman 
in  a  hunting-coat  with  him,  who  joked  and  clapped  him  on 
the  shoulder,  and  he  took  it  all  like  a  bon  camarade?''  Wo 
were  obliged  to  laugh  at  this  description  of  our  worthy 
B.,  whose  connexion  with  us  the  speaker  did  not  guess. 

The  shooting,  which  was  to  continue  four  days,  imme- 
diately commenced.  There  were  thirteen  hundred  rifle- 
men in  all,  and  but  twenty  targets,  and  the  pressure  for 
a  chance  was  very  great.  The  shooting-stand  was  a  spa- 
cious pavilion,  erected  for  the  purpose,  on  the  western 
side  of  which  were  twenty  stalls,  numbered  to  correspond 
with  the  targets.  The  latter  were  also  named,  in  the  order 
of  rank  ;  the  first,  to  which  the  highest  prizes  were  attached, 
being  "  Germany,"  the  second  "  Duke  Ernest,''  the  third 


238  AT  HOMi:  AND   ABROAD. 

"  Thtti-ingia,"  and  the  fourth  "  Schleswig-Holstein."  After 
wards  came  the  German  rivers,  and  then  the  representativ* 
men,  among  whom  Humboldt,  Fichte,  and  Arndt  had  » 
place.  The  distance  was  four  hundred  feet  for  ten  of  the 
targets,  and  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  for  the  remauiing 
fen.  The  manner  of  shooting  was  divided  into  three 
classes,  arranged  so  that  all  should  apply  to  both  the  dis- 
tances :  First,  shooting  "  with  free  hand,"  without  rest  or 
aid  of  any  kind;  second,  with  the  use  of  the  diopter, 
or  sight-gauge ;  and  lastly,  with  rests.  These  technical 
arrangements  were  a  great  worry  to  the  committee,  whc 
were  obliged  to  take  into  consideration  such  a  variety  of 
habits  and  preferences  among  the  riflemen.  It  must  be 
admitted,  however,  that  they  performed  their  work  with 
great  tact,  and  to  the  satisfiiction  of  the  guests. 

The  cracking  of  rifles  became  more  and  more  frequent, 
and  soon  rattled,  like  scattering  volleys,  from  one  end  of 
the  pavilion  to  the  other.  I  was  interested  in  noticing 
the  arrangement  of  the  targets.  Each  was  double,  and 
turned  on  a  pivot  midway  between  the  two,  so  that  when 
one  was  up  the  other  was  down,  and  concealed  from  sight 
in  a  pit,  in  which  the  attendant  sat.  His  duty  was,  when- 
ever a  shot  was  fired,  to  turn  the  axle,  thus  bringing  the 
target  down  to  note  the  shot,  while  he  elevated  the  other 
for  a  fresh  one.  The  shots  were  carefully  registered,  and 
the  record  sent  back  to  the  pavilion  from  time  to  time,  in 
a  bag  attached  to  a  travelling  rope.  It  is  a  lucky  circum- 
stance that  none  of  the  attendants  were  shot  during  the 
festival.  Once,  indeed,  there  was  a  slight  alarm.  One  of 
the  targets  having  failed  to  revolve,  the  firing  was  bus 


A   HOME  IN   THE   THURINGIAN    FOEEST.  23£ 

pended,  and  the  pit  examined,  when  the  man  was  found 
lying  fast  asleep  at  the  bottom !  It  is  no  less  an  illustra- 
tion of  the  care  and  method  native  to  the  German  charac 
ter,  that  although  thirty-five  thousand  shots,  in  all,  were 
fired,  no  accident  of  any  kind  occurred. 

I  was  invited  to  take  part  in  the  trial,  but  as  my  rifle- 
practice  is  very  limited,  and  I  was  the  only  representative 
of  a  country  famous  for  sharp-shooters,  I  judged  that  I 
oonld  best  preserve  our  reputation  by  declining.  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  doing  some  service,  nevertheless,  by  explain- 
ing the  character  of  the  rebellion  against  the  Federal  author- 
ity, for  there  was  no  lack  of  eager  questioners  and  sympa- 
thetic listeners. 

Wandering  about  through  the  crowd,  I  fell  in  with  Dr. 
Petermann,  the  geographer,  who  had  left  his  maps  to  swell 
the  crowd  of  those  who  wish  to  abrogate  geographical  dis. 
tinctions.  His  first  question,  also,  was  in  relation  to  our 
American  difficulty.  I  was  midway  in  a  statement  when 
we  were  joined  by  Gustav  Freytag,  the  author  of  "Debit 
and  Credit,"  and  one  of  the  clearest  thinkers  in  Germany. 
"  What  do  the  people  of  the  Free  States  think  of  the  strug- 
gle ?"  he  asked.  "  They  see  now  that  it  is  inevitable,"  I 
answered.  "  Furthermore,  the  general  impression  is,  that 
it  must  have  come,  some  time,  and  better  now  than  later. 
When  I  left,  the  feeling  was  that  of  relief,  almost  of  satis- 
fciction."  Freytag  is  one  of  those  men  with  whom  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  talk,  as  well  as  to  hear.  His  brain  is  warm  and 
vital,  and  seeks  and  assimilates,  instead  of  repelling,  warmth 
in  others. 

Id  another  group  I  found  the  artists  Jacobs  and  Gurlitt, 


840  AT  HOME   AKD   ABROAD. 

with  both  of  whom  I  established  a  freemasonry  of  interest, 
in  our  reminiscences  of  Greece.  The  "  Temple  of  Gifts'' 
attached  to  the  shooting-hall  had,  as  one  of  its  pediments, 
a  striking  picture  from  the  pencil  of  the  former.  It  repre 
Bented  Germany,  crowned  with  oak,  leaning  on  her  sword 
and  offering  a  wreath  to  the  victor.  The  other  pediment, 
by  Pz'ofessor  Schneider,  illustrated  the  (just  now  more  than 
ever)  popular  legend  of  the  slumbering  Barbarossa.  The 
old  Emperor  sits  in  the  vaults  of  the  Kyffhauser,  with  his 
red  beard  grown  to  his  feet,  while  the  ravens  fly  around  his 
head.  So  long  as  they  fly,  the  enchantment  binds  him:  the 
hour  of  his  awaking  has  not  yet  come.  But,  on  either  side, 
in  the  lower  caverns,  the  mountain-gnomes  are  busy,  forg- 
ing swords,  casting  bullets  and  hammering  the  locks  of 
guns.  Barbarossa  symbolizes  the  German  Unity.  I  should 
have  represented  him,  however,  if  not  in  the  act  of  awak- 
ing, as  starting  in  his  sleep,  at  least.  To  complete  the  alle- 
gory, one  of  the  ravens  should  be  double-headed,  with  yel- 
low wings  (Austria) ;  the  second  wearing  the  papal  tiara 
and  with  the  keys  of  St.  Peter  in  his  claws ;  and  the  third, 
with  a  spiked  helmet,  representing,  not  Prussia,  but  that 
combination  of  pride  and  obstinacy  which  distmguishes  the 
military  profession  in  Germany. 

By  this  time  other  pavilions  than  those  of  the  riflemen, 
were  crowded  with  visitors.  Beside  one  of  these  I  counted, 
at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  thirteen  empty  beer-bar- 
rels !  The  Turnere,  grouped  together  at  tables  under  the 
trees,  sang  in  chorus  ;  the  bands  played  ;  and  outside  of  the 
inclosure  you  could  hear  the  voices  of  showmen,  crying  ■ 
■^  This  way,  Gentlemen  :  here  is  the  wonderful  and  astonish 


A    HOME   IN   THE   THCRINGIAN   FOREST,  241 

ing,"  etc.  I  strayed  down  thitherward,  where  thousands  of 
peasants  were  looking  and  listening  with  open  mouths  and 
eyes.  The  family  of  Bushmen  from  Africa  attracted  me, 
and  I  entered  the  booth.  A  young  fellow,  with  loud  voice 
and  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy,  performed  the  part  of  lecturer 
and  interpreter.  "  Here,  your  Lordships !"  he  cried,  "  1 
will  show  you  the  wild  people  of  Africa,  the  only  specimens 
in  Europe.  I  will  first  call  them.  You  cannot  understand 
their  language,  but  I  will  translate  for  you.  Tath  imang- 
Jcoko  /"  "  Nya — a — a — a  /"  answered  a  voice  behind  the 
curtain.  '''■  KiUbu-horbingo  !''''  he  repeated;  "that  means, 
I  told  them  to  come  out."  Thereupon  appeared  a  little  old 
woman,  with  a  yellow  skin,  and  an  immense  bushy  head  of 
hair,  followed  by  a  girl  of  eighteen,  ditto.  Bushmen  they 
were  not,  nor  Africans :  very  likely  ordinary  gypsies,  dyed 
and  frizzled.  "  Marino-borbibhlee-boo  /"  he  commanded  ; 
"  I  told  them  to  sing,"  And  sing  they  did,  or  rather  scream. 
*'  Your  lordships,"  said  the  showman,  who  looked  enough 
like  the  old  woman  to  be  her  son,  "they  want  money  to 
buy  raw  flesh,  which  is  their  food."  The  girl  took  up  a 
collection,  in  a  cocoa-nut  shell.  "  Your  lordships,"  he  con- 
tinued, "if  you  have  cigars,  or  pipes,  or  tobacco,  they 
would  like  to  have  them."  The  peasants  mnked  at  each 
other,  as  much  as  to  say  "  we've  had  enough  of  this,"  and 
eft  in  a  body,  I  following. 

In  the  afternoon  the  Turners  had  a  grand  performance 
oUowed  by  a  ball  at  the  Theatre,  in  the  evening.  As  all 
wearers  of  badges  had  the  right  of  entrance,  we  deter* 
mined  to  go  thither  as  spectators.  But  here  the  order, 
which  had  characterized  the  festival,  failed.     The  building 


242  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

was  open  on  all  sides,  to  every  one.  There  were  no  door 
keepers,  no  managers,  and  from  the  back  of  the  stage  to 
the  top  of  the  gallery,  the  space  was  crammed  to  suffoca* 
tion  with  a  mixed  multitude,  varying  in  costume  from  the 
most  elegant  ball-toilet  to^  the  shabby  dress  of  the  street- 
oafer.  We  made  our  escape  as  soon  as  possible,  strongly 
impressed  with  the  inconsistency  of  shutting  out  ladies  from 
the  ceremonies  of  the  morning  and  admitting  the  unwashed 
to  the  festivities  of  the  evening. 

At  a  subsequent  visit  to  the  shooting-stand  I  encountered 
Br  who  said  to  me :  "  Have  you  seen  Auerbach  ?"  Berth- 
old  Auerbach  here !  W.  and  I  immediately  set  out  in 
search  of  him,  although  our  chance  of  success  seemed  slight 
indeed.  But  before  we  had  made  our  first  round  through 
the  crowd,  I  espied  a  pair  of  familiar  broad  shoulders,  in 
the  middle  of  which,  on  a  short  neck,  was  planted  a  sturdy 
head.  Without  more  ado  I  gave  the  shoulders  a  hearty 
slap,  whereupon  the  head  turned  with  an  air  of  resentment 
which  immediately  resolved  itself  into  friendly  surprise. 
The  genial  author  of  "Village  Stories"  and  "Little  Bare- 
foot" joined  us,  but  was  so  constantly  hailed  by  friends  and 
admirers  that  we  soon  lost  him  again.  I  learned,  however, 
that  he  has  another  story  in  press,  called  Edelweiss — the 
name  of  an  Alpine  flower. 

At  the  dinner  of  riflemen,  on  the  same  day,  at  which  the 
Duke  presided,  one  of  the  guests  gave  the  following  toast: 
"  Let  us  not  forget,  on  this  occasion,  our  brethren  across  the 
Atlantic,  who  are  also  proving  their  fidelity  to  the  sentiment 
of  Unity,  who  are  engaged  in  upholding  the  cause  of  Law 
and  Order.    Success  to  the  Germans  who  are  fighting  the 


A   UOME   IN   THE  THUKINGIAN    FOREST.  248 

battles  of  the  UDion,  in  America !"  This  was  received  with 
a  storm  of  applause,  the  whole  company  rising  to  theii 
feet. 

At  the  close  of  the  Convention,  De  Leuw  of  DQsseldorf 
was  declared  to  be  the  first  shot,  and  Dorner  of  Nurembers; 
the  second.  Besides  the  contributed  prizes,  four  hundred 
in  number,  there  were  additional  prizes  in  money,  and  the 
lucky  first  dozen  of  sharp-shooters  received  several  hu^idred 
dollars  apiece,  together  with  their  silver  goblets  and  spoons. 


6. — ^Ebnest  of  Cobubg. 

Now  that  the  smoke  of  the  thirty-five  thousand  shots 
has  cleared  away,  the  guests  have  departed,  the  oak-wreath 
withered,  the  banners  rolled  up  for  the  next  time,  and  the 
first  National  Convention  of  German  Riflemen  declared  to 
be  a  great  success,  we  may  already  begin  to  calculate  its 
direct  results.  In  the  popular  estimation  it  stands  for  more 
than  it  really  is,  and,  therefore,  is  more  than  it  seems. 

Mere  expertness  with  the  rifle  is  a  simple  art,  and  the 
various  corps  of  shooters  might  develop  their  skill  to  an 
equal  extent  without  leaving  home.  But  the  ^dat  given  to 
that  skill  by  a  public  trial  at  which  all  Germany  looks  on — 
the  wide  renown,  the  rich  rewards  which  await  the  victor 
— tend  directly  to  make  these  volunteer  associations 
popular,  and  to  greatly  increase  their  number  and  effiid- 
eney.  Again,  behind  this  consideration  lies,  the  idea  of 
making  the  German  people  strong  for  their  own  defeno6^  of 


244  AT   UOM£   AKD   ABROAD. 

bringing  them  together  from  the  remotest  states,  and  pro- 
moting a  spirit  of  unity,  a  harmony  of  interests  and  of 
aims,  in  spite  of  political  divisions.  Not  in  vain  has  th« 
lesson  of  Italy  been  studied  here.  The  people  at  last 
understand  that  they  must  be  a  People,  divided  by  no 
rovincial  jealousies,  animated  by  no  narrow  aims,  before 
Germany  can  be  the  one  powerful  consolidated  Empire, 
which  is  their  political  dream. 

In  the  Convention  at  Gotha,  as  well  as  in  the  Singers' 
Festival,  to  be  held  in  Nuremberg  (and  at  which  five  thou- 
sand paiticipants  are  already  announced),  this  is  the  deep, 
underlying  idea.  The  National- Verein  (National- Associ- 
ation), which  was  established  in  1859,  and  already  numbers 
between  twenty  and  thirty  thousand  members,  has  for  its 
object  the  union  of  all  the  scattered  elements  of  Progress 
in  an  organized  body,  which  shall  work  for  the  same  end. 
After  long  wanderings  hither  and  thither ;  after  many  a 
chase  of  ignes-fatui  through  the  swamps  of  Red  Republic- 
anism, Communism,  and  Socialism,  the  Liberal  Party  in 
Germany  has  at  last  found  its  rational  and  proper  path. 
There  is  no  longer  a  Republican,  but  a  wise,  enlightened 
National  Party,  against  whose  growing  strength  the  reac- 
tion is  beaten  back  on  every  side. 

Not  the  least  important  of  the  circumstances  which  have 
contributed  to  the  success  of  the  Convention  is  the  fact  that 
the  party  possesses  a  leader  who  not  only  enjoys  an 
unbounded  popularity  among  the  masses,  but,  being  him- 
self a  reigning  Prince,  is  at  once  a  guarantee  of  its  charao 
ter  for  his  fellow-rulers,  and  a  shield  for  itself  against  theit 
forcible  opposition.    This  leader  is  Ernest  II.,  Duke  of 


A   HOME   IN   THE  THUBINGIAN  FOBBST.  24fi 

Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  whom  we  best  know  in  America  as 
the  elder  brother  of  Prince  Albert  of  England,  while  iu 
Germany  the  latter  is  best  known  as  the  younger  brother 
of  the  Duke.  The  Reactionists — especially  the  Junker 
thum^  or  Squirearchy,  as  the  reactionary  nobilitj  are  called 
— charge  Ernest  IL  with  being  a  demagogue ;  with  heading 
the  popular  movement  merely  for  the  sake  of  gratifying  a 
hollow  ambition :  but  they  cannot  deny  that  his  course  has 
been  thoroughly  consistent  from  the  beginning,  and  that 
he  remained  true  to  the  cause,  in  spite  of  the  earnest 
remonstrances  of  his  royal  relatives,  at  a  time  when  it 
seemed  to  be  utterly  crushed.  If  he  is  simply  cunning, 
and  not  sincere,  as  they  aflSrm,  it  is  that,  nobler  cunning 
which  foresees  the  inevitable  course  of  events,  and  rides 
on  the  top  wave  of  the  flood  which  it  cannot  stay. 

Certainly  since  the  Schleswig-Holstein  war,  in  which  he 
commanded  the  battery  at  Eckernfiord,  whereby  the 
Danish  frigate  Christian  VIII.  was  destroyed,  no  German 
Prince  has  been  so  popular  with  the  people  as  Ernest  II. 
During  the  last  two  years  this  popularity  has  taken  a  much 
wider  and  deeper  significance.  In  1859  he  not  only  wel- 
comed the  establishment  of  the  National-Verein,  but  when 
the  Free  City  of  Frankfort  refused  to  allow  its  members 
to  meet  in  convention  there,  invited  them  at  once  to 
Coburg.  A  month  ago  the  Legislative  Assembly  of  the 
Duchy,  at  his  recommendation,  concluded  a  military  con- 
vention with  Prussia,  whereby  the  useless  little  army  of 
the  State  is  consolidated  into  that  of  the  greater  power — a 
practical  step  toward  unity.  And  now,  by  his  indefatigable 
labors  as  President  of  the  Convention  of  Riflemen,  by  hii 


*40  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

plain,  cordial  bearing,  his  conciliatory  patience  and  kindnesi 
in  adjusting  disputes  and  jealousies  among  the  guests,  and, 
more  than  all,  by  his  earnest,  patriotic  utterances,  he  hae 
•prung  to  a  height  of  popularity  which  might  make  giddy 
a  head  less  clear  and  cool  than  his. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  Convention,  when  the  members 
assembled  in  the  hall,  the  Duke  made  a  short  address, 
recommending  the  formation  of  a  permanent  union  of 
volunteer  rifle-corps  throughout  all  Germany,  not  only  for 
the  purpose  of  uniting  upon  normal  regulations  in  regard 
to  the  exercises,  but  also  to  arm  and  discipline  the  young 
men,  so  that  they  may  finally  constitute  a  reserve  for  the 
regular  army.  "  The  time  to  create  a  sensation  by  words 
alone,''  said  he,  "  is  past.  The  people  demand  action,  for 
the  sake  of  their  strength  and  unity.  I  hear  of  dangers 
which  threaten  our  Fatherland;  but  a  people  is  beyond 
danger  as  soon  as  it  is  truly  united,  truly  strong."  The 
proposal  was  unanimously  adopted.  A  plain-spoken  doubt- 
er, however,  during  the  day,  ventured  to  approach  the 
Duke  and  to  say :  "  Your  Highness,  your  words  were 
noble  and  patriotic ;  but  will  you  stand  by  them  ?"  The 
Duke  answered,  good-humoredly  clapping  the  speaker  on 
the  shoulder,  "  My  friend,  all  that  I  have  heretofore 
promised  I  have  performed:  I  think  you  may  safely  confide 
in  me  this  time." 

I  had  recently  the  honor  of  a  long  personal  interview 
with  Ernest  II.,  from  which  I  came  away  with  a  most 
agreeable  impression  of  his  character  and  talents.  I  had 
previously  been  presented  to  him  during  the  visit  of  Piinc( 
Albert  to  Gotha,  three  years  ago,  and  was  then  struck  bj 


A    nOitE   IN    THE  THURINGIAN   FOEKST.  247 

his  fi-ee,  off-band,  animated  demeanor,  which  offered  a 
marked  contrast  to  the  somewhat  reserved  and  haughty 
bearing  of  his  younger  brother.  On  my  way  through 
Coburg  to  the  Franconian  Switzerland  a  month  ago,  I  ex* 
pressed  a  Avish,  through  a  niend  in  the  Ministry,  to  wait  upon 
Dim  at  the  castle  of  Callenberg,  near  that  city — ^his  residence 
in  the  early  summer.  The  permission  was  at  once  given,  and 
with  a  cordiality  which  relieved  me  from  any  fear  of  intrusion. 

On  alighting  from  the  train  at  the  Coburg  station,  I  was 
accosted  by  a  personage  in  a  white  cravat,  who,  after 
satisfying  himself  as  to  my  identity,  announced,  "His 
Highness  expects  you  to  dinner,  at  the  Callenberg,  at  seven 
o'clock  this  evening.''  Then  probably  suspecting  that  an 
American  might  be  unfamiliar  with  the  requirements  of 
costume,  he  added,  in  a  wiiisper,  "  You  only  need  a  black 
cravat  and  a  dress-coat."  I  satisfied  his  mind  on  that  score, 
and  we  proceeded  together  to  the  hotel.  He  took  the 
further  precaution  of  ordering  the  carriage,  in  order  that  I 
might  be  punctual ;  but  I  was  already  aware  that  punctuality 
is  a  necessary  virtue  of  princes. 

The  evening  Avas  delicious,  and  '^ne  drive  of  three  miles 
was  a  cheerful  ante-chamberj  through  which  to  enter 
pleasant  society.  (There  are  few  European  courts  which 
ean  be  thus  designated.)  The  old  fortress  of  Coburg, 
fehere  Luther  wrote,  "  Our  Zord,  He  is  a  Tower  of 
Strength,''^  stood  golden  in  the  sun,  and  long  shadows  lay 
across  the  meadoAvs  of  Rosenau.  A  mild  breeze,  hay- 
scented,  blew  over  the  hills,  and  frosted  the  poplars  with 
:]ie  silver  of  their  upturned  leaves. 

The  Duke*6  valet,  a  stout  Afiican,  met    me   at    the 


248  AT  HOME  AND   ABBOAD. 

entrance,  and  conducted  me  to  an  upper  terrace — a  lovely 
Bhaded  spot,  planted  with  flowers  in  rococo  patterns,  with 
a  fountain  in  the  centre.  The  castle  completely  covers  the 
sharp  summit  of  the  mountain,  and  is  visible  far  and  wide. 
1  was  about  entering,  when  I  was  confronted  by  a  tall, 
stately  gentleman,  who  bowed  with  appropriate  gravity. 
One  of  the  lackeys,  seeing  that  I  did  not  recognize  him, 
introduced  him,  with  ready  tact,  as  "  The  Oberhofmarshali 

(ChamV)erlain)  von ."     This  personage  courteously  coa 

ducted  me  around  the  terrace  and  pointed  out  the  beautiei 
of  the  landscape.  I  had  been  upon  the  Callenberg  year* 
before,  but  had  never  seen  it  in  the  splendor  of  summer. 

There  is  scarcely  a  more  exquisite  situation  in  Germany 
It  diflers  from  Reinhardtsbrunn  as  a  mountain  differs  from 
a  valley,  depending  more  on  the  natural  characteristics  of 
the  view  than  on  the  artistic  development  of  Nature.  It  is 
high  enough  to  command  a  wide  and  grand  panorama,  yet 
not  so  high  as  to  lose  the  sentiment  and  expression  of  the 
different  features.  Each  angle  of  the  parapet  gives  you  a 
new  landscape.  There  is,  first,  the  valley  of  Coburg, 
crowned  by  its  hill  and  fortress ;  then  a  broad  mountain  of 
(lark  firs,  all  else  shut  out  from  view;  then  a  vision  of 
England — hedge-row  trees,  green  lawns,  dumps  of  oak, 
and  water;  and,  finally,  a  rich  plain,  stretching  away  to 
the  west,  where  the  volcanic  peaks  of  the  Gleichberge  rise 
gainst  the  sky.  The  trees  on  the  hill  itself  are  superb 
and  the  castle  on  the  summit  so  thoroughly  harmonizes 
with  the  scenery  that  it  seems  the  natural  crowning  expreSi 
rion  of  the  M'hole. 

Presently    the    Duke's    Adjutant,    Herr    von    Beater, 


A   HOMB   IN  THE   THUKLNGIAN   FOEHST.  249 

arrived,  in  company  with  his  wife  and  sister,  to  all  of  whom 
I  was  presented  in  due  form.  The  Adj  itant  was  a  slight, 
gentlemanly  person,  with  an  air  of  refinement  and  intelli- 
gence ;  the  ladies  handsome  and  graceful,  and  simply,  but 
rery  elegantly,  dressed.  Scarcely  had  we  exchanged  a 
few  commonplaces,  when  the  Dnke  and  Duchess  came  out 
upon  the  terrace.  The  Chamberlain  immediately  presented 
me  to  the  latter.  She  was  the  Princess  Alexandrina,  of 
Baden,  a  sister  of  the  reigning  Grand-Duke.  Of  medium 
height,  a  full  rather  than  plump  figure,  mth  blonde  hair, 
blue  eyes,  and  a  quiet,  almost  retiring,  simplicity  of  manner, 
[  could  readily  understand  the  afiectionate  regard  in  which 
she  is  held  by  the  people.  Her  kindness  of  heart  is  evident 
to  any  one  who  looks  on  her  face. 

The  Duke  then  advanced  and  addressed  me  very  cor- 
dially. He  has  but  a  slight  family  resemblance  to  Prince 
Albert,  than  whom  he  appears  younger,  although  two  years 
older.  His  features  are  not  so  regularly  chiselled  as  those 
of  his  brother,  who  is  certainly  one  of  the  handsomest 
men  in  Europe,  but  far  more  animated  and  expressive. 
He  is  about  five  feet  ten  inches  in  height,  slender,  but 
perfectly  symmetrical,  and  quick  and  elastic  in  his  move- 
ments. His  face  is  a  fine  oval,  the  forehead  expansive  at 
the  temples,  and  the  eyes  a  clear,  splendid  hazel.  His  nose 
is  rather  long,  but  not  prominent,  the  lips  firm  and  sharply 
cut,  while  a  mustache  and  short,  pointed  beard  increase  their 
character  of  decision.  It  is  a  mediaeval  rather  than  a 
modern  head — such  as  might  have  belonged  to  that  Ernes* 
who  was  carried  off  by  the  robber-knight,  Kunz  von  Kauf- 
ongen^  and  who  was  his  own  ancestor  in  a  direct  line.    He 


260  AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAl>. 

IS  passionately  fond  of  hunting,  riding,  driving,  and  all 
other  out  d!)or  diversions,  of  which  taste  his  tanned  fac< 
and  hands  gave  evidence. 

He  took  me  off  to  the  parapet  and  began  to  comment  on 
the  landscape  ;  but  in  a  few  minutes  dinner  was  announced, 
and  we   rejoined  the  company.     The  etiquette   observed 
was  very  simple.     The  Duke  and  Duchess  took  the  lead, 
Ij  as  a  stranger,  following — in  advance  of  the  ladies,  to  my 
surprise — and  the  Chamberlain  brought  up  the  rear.    The 
princely  pair  were  first  served,  of  course,  but  this  was  the 
only  formality  observed.     There  was  a  free,  unrestrained 
flow  of   conversation,   in    which   all  took   part,   and    the 
subject  was  naturally  varied,  without  waiting  for  the  Ruler 
to  give  the  cue.     The  Duke,  it  is  true,  was  the  leader,  not 
from  his  position,  but  from  natural  right.     I  cannot  judge 
of  the  depth,  but  I  can  testify  to  the  great  extent  of  his 
acquirements.    He  has,   at  least,  the  mental   qualities  of 
attraction  and  assimilation,  which  are  not  the  least  import- 
ant concomitants  of  genius.     With  an  admirable  memory 
and  a  vital  interest  in  every  field  of  knowledge,  there  arc 
few  subjects  upon  which  he  cannot  converse  brilliantly 
Quick,  animated,  sparkling,  he  provokes  the  electricity  of 
those  with  whom  he  comes  in  contact.     His  greatest  aver- 
sion, I  should  think,  would  be  a  dull  person.     Perhaps  this 
is  the  reason  why  there  is  so  little  love  lost  between  him 
and  the  nobility.    He  would  rather  talk  with  an  intelligent 
burgher  than  a  stupid  baron. 

The  Duke  has  talents  which,  if  he  were  not  a  duke, 
might  have  made  him  eminent  in  various  ways.  He  is  the 
author  of  a  work  on  the  Schleswig-Holstein  war,  and  the 


A   HOME  IK  TnE  THURINGIAX  FOREST.  261 

ioraposer  of  five  operas,  two  of  which — "  Santa  Chiara" 
and  "  Diane  de  Solanges" — have  attained  a  certain  populai? 
ity.  I  have  never  had  an  opportunity  of  hearing  either 
As  an  amateur  player  he  is  said  to  be  admirable.  Yet, 
urith  all  these  brilliant  qualities,  he  is  steady,  prudent,  and 
clear-headed — ambitious,  no  doubt,  but  intelligently/  so.  It 
is  no  damage  to  his  future  that  his  enemies  are  nobles  and 
princes,  and  his  friends  the  people. 

After  dinner,  which  lasted  about  an  hour,  we  went  upon 
the  terrace  for  coffee  and  cigars.  The  Duke  called  my 
attention  to  a  small  but  thrifty  specimen  of  the  Sequoia, 
or  California  tree,  and  inquired  particularly  about  the  soil 
in  which  it  grew,  the  temperature  it  could  endure,  etc.,  aa 
he  was  anxious  to  acclimate  it  completely.  He  then  invited 
me  to  a  corner  of  the  parapet,  looking  down  on  the  love- 
liest woods,  where  our  conversation  soon  became  entirely 
frank  and  unreserved.  He  expressed  his  political  views 
without  the  least  reticence,  and  thereby  instituted — what 
he  probably  desired — a  similar  frankness  on  my  part.  In 
fact,  I  ceased  to  remember  that  I  was  addressing  a  reigning 
Prince,  and  he  had  the  full  advantage  of  such  forgetfulness. 
I  have  not  the  right  to  repeat  this  conversation,  but  I  will 
venture  to  give  one  remark  in  evidence.  In  speaking  of  a 
certaiu  crowned  head,  the  Duke  said :  "  He  has  one  rare 
quality.  He  hears,  patiently,  views  which  are  directly 
opposed  to  his  own,  turns  them  over  in  his  mind,  and,  if  he 
finds  them  good,  adopts  them,  frankly  acknowledging  that 
he  was  wrong."  "  An  admirable  quality  ! "  said  I  :  "it 
would  be  a  blessing  to  Europe  if  all  her  rulers  possessed  it." 
To  which  he  assented  most  heartily. 


252  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

His  last  political  step — the  account  which  he  has  ren 
dered  to  the  German  people  of  his  position  as  ruler — is,  in 
its  boldness  and  candor,  a  new  apparition,  and  marks  the. 
downfall  of  a  fossilized  conventionalism  in  politics.  As 
this  expression  undoubtedly  was  suggested  by  the  resulti 
of  the  national-shooting  match,  I  quote  its  manly  conclu- 
sion: "The  popular  mind  resembles  the  swelling,  swift- 
advancing  current  of  a  river.  To  dam  it,  to  delay  it  in  its 
course,  is  a  fruitless  undertaking.  The  waves  rise  foaming 
aloft  and  sweep  every  barrier  away  with  them.  Patriots 
and  princes  should  therefore  be  inspired  by  the  same 
end*  avor,  to  keep  the  flood  pure  in  its  forward  movement, 
and  restrain  it  within  its  proper  banks.  In  order  to  accom- 
plish this,  the  active  sympathy  of  the  people  themselves  is 
neressary.  They  should  not  stand  aloof  from  the  men 
whose  duty  it  is  to  hold  the  reins  of  government.  It  is  to 
be  condemned,  indeed,  when  one  struggles  for  populai-ity, 
in  the  universally-accepted  sense  of  the  word,  and  makes 
himself  artificially  popular,  regardless  of  the  work  in  his 
hands.  But  it  is  equally  wrong  to  suppose  that  without 
the  warm  sympathy  of  the  people — therefore,  without 
popularity  in  its  truer  sense — patriotic  men  can  benefi- 
cently exercise  the  leadership  of  the  masses.  The  people 
must,  therefore,  honor  the  names  of  their  leaders,  them- 
selves protect  them  from  aspersion,  and  should  never  lose 
sight  of  the  &ct  that  mutual  confidence  is  inseparable  firom 
mutual  charity  and  consideration.'' 

In  regard  to  our  American  difficulties,  the  Duke  expressed 
himself  as  earnestly  as  I  could  have  desired.  He  doubted, 
however,  whether  the  rebels  would  hold  the  field,  aftei 


A    HOME   IN   THE   THURINGIAN   FOREST.  253 

ascertaining  the  immense  force  which  the  Federal  Govern 
ment  could  bring  against  them.  I  explained  that  resistance, 
even  against  such  odds,  was  but  a  part  of  that  enormous 
Southern  vanity  which  did  not  seem  to  be  appreciated  by 
European  spectators  of  the  struggle ;  but  he  evidently 
disbelieved  in  a  vanity  so  at  variance  with  common  sense. 

At  ten  o'clock  there  was  a  movement  of  departure. 
The  Duke  shook  hands  with  a  friendly  "  au  revoir .'"  and 
I  followed  the  Chamberlain,  Adjutant,  and  ladies  to  the 
carriages.  Independently  of  the  interest  connected  with 
the  principal  personage,  I  had  passed,  socially,  a  most 
delightful  evening,  and  returned  to  Coburg  with  the 
agreeable  conviction  that  some  Princes  can  be  men  as  well. 

— This  chapter  is  what  Jean  Paul  calls  an  "  Extra-Leaf," 
interpolated  into  the  regular  course  of  my  journal.  It  is 
possible  that  in  the  future  developments  of  German  history 
Ernest  11^  of  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  will  occupy  an  important 
place,  and  my  readers  v«^ill  then  thank  me  for  having  made 
them,  to  this  extent,  acquainted  with  him. 


y, — Stobks  and  Authobs. 

JULT  15,  1861. 

After  four  days  of  such  agreeable  excitement  as  the 
Festival  in  Gotha  had  given,  it  was  nevertheless  with 
renewed  satisfaction  that  we  returned  to  our  cottage  in  the 
mountains.  We  did  not  even  wait  for  the  closing  fire- 
works, (the  illumination  of  Constantinople  in  the  night  o/ 


251  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

Bairam  liaAing  spoiled  us  foi-  all  inferior  displays,)  but 
started  at  sunset,  leaving  the  banners  and  trumpets  behind 
fls,  for  the  welcome  gloom  and  stillness  of  the  Forest. 

The  carriage  rolled  rapidly,  in  the  soft  glow  of  evening, 
wer  the  familiar  road.  Past  the  old  quarries  of  red  sand 
stone,  past  the  "Mad  Dog,"  a  noted  "beer-locality," 
through  the  little  village  of  Sundhausen,  and  then  out  on  the 
rich,  undulating  plain.  To  the  left  lay  the  Boxberg,  a  low, 
wooded  hill,  where  I  had  enjoyed  family  pic-nios  years  ago, 
and  frightened  the  German  children  with  an  imitation  of 
the  cry  of  the  American  wild-cat;  and  far  to  the  right, 
purple  in  the  twilight,  the  haunted  Horsel.  By  and  bye, 
as  the  dusk  fell,  we  reached  Wahlwinkel  (Election-corner), 
but  the  little  one  who  should  have  sent  the  wife-stork  a 
greeting,  as  she  sat  on  her  nest,  was  sound  asleep.  The 
stork  looked  down,  and  nodded,  as  much  as  to  say:  "Ah 
ha!  Is  that  the  little  one  I  brought  from  Egypt  three 
years  ago  ?  How  she's  grown  I" 

And  straightway,  in  the  dusk,  opened  a  gate  into  Fable- 
land.  I  saw  not  only  the  Osiride  pillars  of  rosy  sandstone 
m  the  halls  of  Karnak,  but  the  pass-word  of  that  magic 
which  unites  the  divided  Palm  and  Pine,  was  whispered 
in  my  ear.  "  What  are  you  doing  here  ?*'  said  the  stork, 
as  she  clapped  her  bill  from  her  nest  on  the  chimney ;  "  I 
Haw  you  once,  under  the  palms  of  Luxor.  The  brown 
'.ware  is  dead,  and  Hassan  is  blind  of  an  eye,  and  Teffaha, 
who  danced  by  torch-light — oh,  I  saw  it,  through  a  hole  in 
the  temple-roof! — went  away  long  ago;  but  the  sphinx 
says  to  me  every  winter, '  Have  you  seen  him  ?  will  he  come 
back  soon?'  and  I  answer  :  'He'll  come — be  sure  of  that/ 


A   HOME   IN   THB  THUKINGIAN  FOBBST.  25fe 

1  saw  him  sitting  on  the  steps  of  the  Parthenon,  as  I  flew 
over  with  the  lotus-bud  in  my  bill.  He  was  looking  across 
the  sea  and  the  sand.'  "  I  gave  the  stork  a  message  in  the 
same  language  ;  but  what  the  message  was,  you  must  ask 
the  sphinx  at  Luxor,  and  I  don't  believe  she  will  tell  you. 

Incredulous  readers  may  doubt  my  knowledge  of  the 
stork-language,  and,  to  justify  my  assertion,  I  must  give 
them  proofs  of  the  higher  intelligence  which  this  bird  pos- 
sesses. In  Germany  he  is  sacred ;  and  he  knows  it.  I  have 
seen  him  walking  in  the  crowded  street  of  a  city,  with  as 
much  gravity  and  composure  as  if  he  had  black  pantaloons 
on  his  red  legs  and  an  umbrella  under  his  wing.  He  builds 
his  nest  only  on  house-tops,  and  comes  back  regularly  to 
the  same  spot  from  his  yearly  journeys  to  Africa.  He  is 
a  faithful  provider  for  his  family,  irreproachable  in  his 
connubial  relations,  and  of  a  Spartan  strictness  of  discipline. 
He  does  not  associate  with  other  birds — unless,  perhaps, 
with  the  Ibis,  whose  aristocracy  is  of  about  as  old  a  date 
as  his  own.  Staid,  constant,  thrifty,  conscientious,  he  seta 
an  example  on  the  top  of  the  house  to  the  family  under 
him,  and  is  therefore  fastidious  in  his  selection  of  a  resi- 
dence. 

Moreover,  the  stork  is  the  only  bird  that  regularly  pays 
rent.    During  the  first  year  of  his  residence,  he  plucks  out 

stout  feather  from  his  wing,  and  casts  it  down.  The 
second  year,  his  payment  is  an  egg^  and  the  third,  a  young 
bird.  He  would  be  highly  ofiended,  if  the  payment  should 
be  returned.  While  he  is  very  devoted  in  his  attach- 
ment to  his  mate,  lie  requires  an  equal  devotion  from  her, 
and  forgives  no  departure  from   the  strict  line  of  duty 


256  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

A  j)erson  once  perpetrated  the  cruel  joke  of  taking  t 
stork's  egg  out  of  the  nest  while  the  parents  were  absent, 
and  putting  a  goose's  egg  in  its  place.  When  the  brood 
was  hatched  out,  the  astonishment  of  the  male  and  the 
dismay  of  the  female  bird  were  without  bounds.  The 
former  presently  flew  off  and  summoned  a  council  of  hia 
fellow-storks,  who,  after  examining  the  unfortunate  gosling, 
pronounced  a  verdict  of  "  Guilty !"  and  thereupon  pierced 
the  innocent  female  to  death  with  their  sharp  bills. 

A  curious  case  of  a  different  character  occurred  last 
summer,  in  Holstein.  A  male-stork,  well-known  to  the 
inhabitants,  reached  his  summer  home  at  the  usual  time, 
unaccompanied  by  his  mate.  He  repaired  and  re-lined  hia 
nest,  like  a  careful  husband :  still,  the  wife  did  not  come, 
He  became  sad,  then  restless,  and  finally,  taking  a  sudden 
resolution,  brought  home  a  blushing  young  stork-bdde 
from  a  neighboring  colony.  The  household  was  now  haj^- 
pily  formed,  and  everything  went  on  as  usual,  until,  a 
week  afterwards,  the  old  wife  suddenly  made  her  appear- 
ance. Her  anger,  the  alarm  of  the  younger  female,  and 
the  embarrassment  of  the  husband,  were  so  expressive, 
that  the  spectators  at  once  understood  the  situation. 
After  the  first  conftision  was  over,  calmer  explanations 
followed.  The"  difficulty  was  dispassionately  considered, 
and  the  result  was,  that  all  three  set  to  work  the  next  day 
to  enlarge  the  nest,  and  the  reconciled  wives  hatched  oul 
a  double  brood  of  young.  Here  are  two  additional  facta 
for  the  use  of  those  who  maintain  that  animals  can  not  only 
express  their  feelings,  hnt  relate  narratives  and  discuss 
questions.    For  my  part  I  once  heard  a  lengthened  conver 


A    HOME   LN"  THE  THUKlNUliLN'  F0KE8T.  26^ 

sation  (wliich  the  attending  circumstances  made  perfectly 
intelligible  to  me)  between  two  crows. 

It  was  quite  dark  as  we  entered  the  glen,  leading  tc 
Reinhardtsbrunn,  and  the  postillion's  horn  breathed  forth 
only  slow,  lamenting  melodies,  the  notes  of  which  wan- 
dered far  away  under  the  trees,  as  if  seeking  an  outlet  to 
he  starlight.  Our  cottage  glimmered  on  the  height,  aa 
we  approached,  and  the  flag  flapped  in  the  night- wind, 
saying :  "  All's  well !"  The  house-maid,  Hanna,  had  heard 
the  horn,  and  stood  already  at  the  door,  with  a  candle  in 
her  hand.  Verily,  the  place  already  possessed  an  atmo- 
sphere of  home. 

The  next  day,  I  rested  from  the  past  excitements,  enjoy* 
ing  Gray's  highest  idea  of  earthly  happiness.  That  is,  it 
was  rainy,  and  I  read  a  novel,  which  gave  me  a  new  and 
interesting  insight  into  a  particular  field  of  German  litera- 
ture. In  England,  the  three-volume  novel  is  the  fashion- 
able form :  in  Germany,  of  late  years,  it  is  the  nine-volume 
novel !  If  a  mystical  luck  is  connected  with  the  number 
three,  why,  three  times  three  is  of  course  a  double  assur- 
ance. The  work  in  question  is  Gutzkow's  "Knights  of 
the  Mind"  {Ritter  vom  Geiste),  which  I  should  call  sl  pano- 
ramic novel,  since  it  seems  to  embrace  the  whole  circle 
of  the  philosophies,  the  sciences  and  the  passions.  Still,  in 
spite  of  the  undoubted  genius  which  it  displays,  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  there  is  a  little  too  much  of  it. 
Here,  I  have  gotten  through  with  three  volumes,  or  nearly 
fifteen  hundred  pages,  and  the  action  has  advanced  but 
eight  days  since  the  commencement !  The  fourth  volume^ 
upon  which  I  am  now  engaged,  is  wholly  taken  up  with 


258  AT  HOMB  AND  ABBOAD. 

the  transactions  of  a  single  evening.  At  this  rate,  if  the 
author's  plan  had  extended  over  a  year,  we  should  have 
had  a  hundred  volumes,  instead  of  nine.  Gutzkow  has 
recently  published  a  second  novel, "  The  Wizard  of  Rome,*' 
also  in  nine  volumes.  One  is  tempted  to  ask:  "Why 
nine  /"  In  literature  as  in  painting,  it  is  not  the  immense 
frescoes  that  are  the  greatest  pictures.  Gutzkow  is  a  fine 
aitist,  but  he  takes  too  large  a  canvas. 

It  occurs  to  me  that  in  this  manner  a  popular  novelist 
might,  with  a  little  cunning,  secure  to  himself  employment 
for  life,  and  a  permanent  income.  Let  him  first  announce 
a  work  in  five  or  six  volumes,  to  be  published  at  intervals 
of  three  months.  At  the  end  of  the  first  year,  having 
obtained  from  twenty  to  fifty  thousand  readers,  he  could 
state  that  the  exigencies  of  his  plot  required  him  to  add 
half  a  dozen  more  volumes.  After  having  led  his  readers 
thus  through  four  or  five  years,  the  simple  fact  of  their 
having  already  read  so  mitch,  would  secure  them  for  the 
rest  of  his  life.  The  work  would  have  the  same  attraction 
as  a  lottery,  each  consecutive  volume  promising  to  be  the 
prize  (that  is,  the  conclusion,) — and,  in  spite  of  fifty 
blanks,  the  poor  readers  would  still  hope  for  better  luck 
next  time.  Dumas'  "  Three  Guardsmen"  and  its  successors, 
are  specimens  of  this  strategy,  on  a  smaller  scale. 

The  "  Knights  of  the  Mind,''  however,  has  the  advantage 
oi  a  strong  national  interest,  which  has  ca^  sed  it  to  be 
read  with  avidity  in  Germany  ;  while,  for  the  same  reason, 
a  translation  of  it  into  English  would  n^t  repay  the 
publisher.  Many  of  the  characters  are  real  individuals 
slightly  disguised,  and  the  thread  of  the  story,  which  is 


A   HOME   m  THE   THCKINGIAK   POEEST.  25C 

sufficiently  improbable,  is  subordinate  to  its  political  and 
philosophical  development.  As  I  said  before,  it  exhibits 
great  powers,  but  uiyiecessarily  diluted. 

Saturday  dawned  fair  and  wai-m,  and  the  wooded  moun- 
tains blissfully  enjoyed  the  sunshine.  Our  old  friends 
across  the  gardens,  and  the  Councilloress  B.  with  her  boys, 
joined  us  at  breakfast,  under  the  locust-trees  in  front  of 
the  Felsenkeller.  Scarcely  had  we  taken  our  seats,  when 
the  plague  of  the  Thtiringian  Forest — the  lace-peddlers — 
assailed  us.  In  valley  and  on  height,  by  wood  and  field, 
they  lay  in  wait  for  you.  Sit  under  a  tree,  and  one  of 
them  drops  from  the  branches  ;  look  into  a  pond,  and  the 
sliadow  of  another  opens  its  pasteboard-box.  Denial  does 
no  good,  and  it  is  not  lawful  to  use  force.  On  this  particular 
morning,  the  lady  B.,  in  a  flow  of  merry  spirits,  took  up  a 
new  weapon,  which,  to  our  surprise,  proved  entirely 
effectual.  "  Lace  !"  said  she,  assuming  an  air  half  tragic, 
half  sentimental,  "talk  not  of  lace  (spitzen)  in  the  majestic 
presence  of  Nature  !  we  have  mountain-peaks  {berg-spitzen) 
already.  For  the  border  {saum)  of  a  dress  ?  see,  yonder 
is  the  edge  of  the  forest  {wald-saum) !  Remove  your 
lace,  ye  profane !  The  bosom  of  Nature  requires  it  not  I" 
The  rest  of  us  took  up  the  cue,  and  the  peddlers,  at  first 
mystified,  presently  went  off  in  great  indignation. 

At  Reinhardtsbrunn  we  met  B.,  in  company  with  a  giant 

rifleman,    the    Captain   von   K ,   on   their   way  to 

the  summit  of  the  Inselsberg.  We  straightway  joined  the 
party,  the  ladies  promising  to  meet  us  at  the  Hunter's  Rest, 
high  on  the  mountain,  in  the  afternoon.  It  was  intensely 
hot  as  we  drove  up  the  Monsters'  Ravine,  between  its  taP 


260  AT  nOME   AND   ABROAD. 

bluffs  of  rock,  now  and  then  scaring  a  doe  from  her  pastnra, 
I  secretly  rejoiced  that  the  easy  grade  of  the  macadamized 
road  allowed  me  to  keep  my  seat  while  climbing  the  steep 
at  the  end  of  the  glen.  Once  on  the  ridge,  we  had  a  long 
evel  to  the  foot  of  the  Inselsberg,  with  a  view  extending 
northward  to  the  Brocken,  and  southward  over  the  princi- 
pality of  Saxe-Meiningen  into  Bavaria.  The  Captain,  an 
Austrian  by  birth,  had  much  that  was  interesting  to  relate. 
He  had  made  the  campaign  in  Italy  in  1849,  had  been  in 
Dalmatia,  in  Turkey  and  Hungary,  and  was  now  an 
inhabitant  of  Holstein — a  Liberal  in  his  political  views,  but 
by  no  means  a  Democrat.  Although  himself  a  noble,  he 
was  excessively  severe  upon  the  adelstoh,  or  pride  of  caste, 
which  is  the  chief  characteristic  of  a  large  portion  of  the 
German  nobility.  "For  a  yomig  fellow  who  has  been 
brought  up  at  home,  by  a  silly  mother,  and  knows  no 
better,''  said  he,  "  I  have  only  commiseration ;  but  a 
nobleman  who  has  seen  the  world,  and  is  acquainted  with 
men,  and  still  exhibits  this  pride  of  caste,  is  a  stupid  ass !" 
We  aU  laughed  at  the  Captain's  honest  emphasis,  and 
I  mentally  contrasted  his  good  sense  with  the  conversation 
of  certain  F.F.V.'s  whom  I  have  met,  and  who  so  bored 
me  with  accounts  of  "good  families,"  that  I  devoutly 
wished  there  had  been  a  few  bad  families  in  Virginia. 

"We  had  a  lovely  day  for  the  view  from  the  Inselsberg. 
Now,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  this  view,  for  I  find 
that  the  panoramas  visible  from  inland  mountains  which 
rise  beyond  a  certain  height,  have  very  much  the  same 
general  features.  All  the  lower  ranges  are  flattened  to  th« 
eye,  and  the  perspective  of  color  passes  through  the  same 


▲   HOM£  IN   TH£  THUKIN6IAN   FOBBST.  261 

delicate  gradations.  Nearest  below  you  a  group  of  dark 
fir  mountains,  then  a  middle  distance  of  varying  green, 
brown,  and  gold  ;  and,  embracing  all,  a  glassy,  transparent 
horizon-ring  of  the  tenderest  blue  and  purple  tints.  Any 
one  who  has  stood  upon  a  mountain  can  from  these  hinta 
construct  the  picture. 

The  landlord  recognized  in  B.  a  beneficent  patron,  and 
gave  us  a  sumptuous  dinner,  including  trout  and  venison, 
in  his  lofty  hotel.  We  drank  our  coffee  in  the  open  air, 
taking  (I  at  least)  full  draughts  of  the  loveliest  colors  for 
the  palette  of  the  eye,  while  the  fragrant  Mocha  gratified 
the  palate  of  the  baser  sense.  The  Hunter's  Rest  waa 
visible  far  below,  a  green  meadow-spot  among  the  woods, 
and  we  descried,  through  a  telescope,  a  familiar  rose-colored 
dress,  which  announced  that  the  ladies  had  already  arrived. 
We  joined  them  in  season  to  pass  an  hour  of  the  sweet 
evening  in  their  company,  and  then  walked  together  in  the 
cool  twilight,  three  miles  down  the  mountain,  to  oar 
cottage. 


8. — "Thb  Vision  op  Sudden  Death.** 

July  17,  1861. 
Did  you  ever  read  De  Quincey's  "Vision  of  Sudden 
Death?" — that  powerful,  fascinating  paper,  which  whirls 
yon  onward  with  impetuous  speed  as  to  an  inevitable 
doom,  and  finally  terminates  in  a  puff  of  dust,  leaving  yoc 
a  little  bewildered,  but  none  the  worse !  It  was  recalled 
lo  my  mind  yesterday  evening  by  a  vision  more  terrible 


262  AT  HOHB  a:nd  abboad. 

than  that  which  he  describes,  and  as  fortunate  in  its  dose. 
I  have  not  read  the  article  for  years,  but  I  shall  read  it 
again  with  that  keen  understanding,  that  sharp  interior 
illumination  which  a  moment's  sensation  is  sufficient  to 
give.  I  look  out  of  my  window  on  the  fair  valley,  fairer 
than  ever  in  the  morning  sunshine  and  the  ripening  grain, 
and  as  my  eyes  touch  one  point  where  a  row  of  trees 
bends  along  the  side  of  the  mountain,  an  icy  chill  suddenly 
strikes  to  my  heart.  Yet — everything  remains  as  it  was 
twenty-four  hours  ago,  in  Nature,  in  my  own  household, 
in  all  our  hopes  and  plans.  The  ship  that  just  grazes  an 
iceberg  comes  into  port  as  surely  as  that  which  passed  it, 
out  of  sight ;  but  the  passengers  step  on  shore  with  very 
different  feelings. 

Four  miles  eastward  of  this,  on  the  end  of  a  mountain- 
spur,  is  the  site  of  the  first  Christian  church  in  Middle 
Germany.  The  whole  neighborhood  round  about  was 
consecrated  by  the  labors  of  that  "  Apostle  of  Peace,"  St. 
Bonifacius,  whom  Saxon  England  sent  to  redeem  her 
mother-land  from  heathendom,  and  this  church  was  the 
first  temple  he  raised  over  the  ruined  altars  of  Odin  and  the 
Druid  oaks  which  he  felled  with  his  own  hand.  An  excur 
sion  to  the  spot  was  part  of  our  summer  programme,  which 
we  carried  out  yesterday  afternoon.  During  all  my 
previous  ramble^  in  the  Thtlringian  Forest  I  had  somehow 
neglected  this  locality,  and  when  the  cool  air,  the  shaded 
sky,  and  the  subdued,  mellow  light  which  lay  upon  the 
landscape,  giving  its  tints  that  ripe,  juicy  depth  which  is 
to  the  eye  as  a  strong  flavor  to  the  palate,  lured  us  forth 
from  our  cottage,  I  said  "  Let  us  go  to  Altenberga  I" 


A    UOM£  DT  THE  TIIUIUNGIAN   FOREST.  263 

That  the  i-eader  may  follow  this  pilgrimage  with  the 
proper  interest,  let  me  communicate  to  him  the  history  of 
St.  Bonifacius  and  his  labors,  as  I  have  gathered  it  from 
the  Tliiinngian  Chronicles.  The  commencement  of  Chris- 
tianity  in  Germany  was  also  the  commencement  of  Civiliza- 
tion, and  Bonifacius  deserves  a  place  next  after  Charle 
magne,  among  the  founders  of  the  Empire.  His  true  name 
was  Winfried.  He  was  born  in  England  in  the  year  680. 
and  was  educated  in  the  monastery  of  Nut-shell  (?),  where* 
as  a  boy,  he  determined  to  devote  his  life  to  missionary 
labors.  His  first  attempt  was  made  in  Friesland,  as  an 
assistant  of  the  English  bishop,  Willibrod.  Failing  in  this, 
he  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  and  was  consecrated  for 
the  work  by  Pope  Gregory  H.  Crossing  the  Alps,  he 
passed  through  Bavaria  to  Thdringia  and  Hessia,  where 
he  preached  to  the  people  at  first  with  more  zeal  than 
success.  Afterwards,  having  secured  the  protection  of 
Charles  Martel,  the  virtual  ruler  of  the  Franks,  to  whom 
nearly  the  whole  of  Germany  was  then  subject,  his  labors 
began  to  exhibit  cheering  results.  He  made  himself  the 
object  of  special  awe  among  the  people  by  the  boldness 
with  which  he  overthrew  and  destroyed  the  rude  statues 
of  their  gods.  At  the  village  of  Geismar,  in  Hessia,  he 
seized  an  axe  and  hewed  down  the  immense  Thunder-oak, 
sacred  to  Thor,  whUe  the  people  looked  on  in  silent  con 
itemation. 

It  was  in  or  about  the  year  726,  (the  precise  date  canno 
be  ascertained)  when  he  built  a  chapel  dedicated  to  St. 
John  the  Baptist,  on  the  hill  overlooking  the   village  of 
Altenberga.    Tradition  relates  that  the  people  so  crowded 


264  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

to  hear  him  preach  that  the  chapel  was  soon  unable  to 
contain  them,  and  he  was  obliged  to  hold  service  in  the 
open  air.  The  Devil  thereupon  sent  flocks  of  crows, 
ravens  and  blackbirds,  who  made  such  a  chatter  as  to 
drown  his  voice  ;  but  at  his  prayers,  and  the  repeated  sign 
of  the  cross,  they  flew  off"  in  affright  and  returned  no  more. 

Gradually,  with  an  activity  that  never  wearied,  a  zeal 
that  never  grew  cool,  Bonifacius  planted  the  Christian 
religion  in  the  place  of  the  paganism  which  he  had  so 
forcibly  rooted  out.  He  became  the  head  of  the  Church 
in  Germany,  and  was  made  Archbishop  of  Mayence  by 
Gregory  III.  in  746.  During  the  internecine  wars  which 
followed  the  death  of  Charles  Martel,  his  influence  was 
potent  in  the  councils  of  the  Franks,  and  when  Childeric 
III.,  the  last  of  the  Merovingian  dynasty,  was  set  aside, 
his  hands  anointed  Pepin,  the  father  of  Charlemagne,  at 
Soissons,  in  752.  But  he  had  no  personal  ambition  to  be 
flattered  by  these  honors.  His  heart  yearned  for  a  renewal 
of  his  early  triumphs,  as  a  simple  missionary.  Laying 
3own  the  archepiscopal  dignity,  he  set  out  for  Friesland, 
the  scene  of  his  earliest  labors.  The  wild  race  fell  upon 
'lis  little  party  with  sword  and  spear.  Holding  the  Bible 
before  him  as  his  only  shield — relying,  perhaps,  upon  a 
miraculous  interposition  of  heavenly  nid — he  met  his  death, 
it  the  age  of  seventy-four,  after  a  life  without  a  blot,  the 
ieath  he  had  coveted  when  a  boy.  He  was  canonized,  but 
his  holiest  title  is  "  The  Apostle  of  Peace." 

In  Germany  a  thousand  years  seem  to  embrace  a  nar 
power  cycle  than  two  hundred  years  in  America.  We  stiL 
gee  the  primitive  race,  in  wampum,  moccasin  and  war-paint| 


A    HOMB   m   THE  THCRINGIAN  FOREST.  265 

in  the  streets  of  New  York  j  but  here,  the  footsteps  of  the 
ante-feudal  era  are  so  completely  washed  out,  the  grooves 
in  which  the  life  of  the  present  race  moves  are  so  old  and 
worn,  apparently  so  irrevocably  fixed,  that  we  look  back 
upon  the  long-haired,  half-naked  savages  of  the  seventh 
century,  as  if  they  were  coteniporaries  of  the  Egyptian 
Remesides.  In  throwing  out,  here  and  there,  a  thread  of 
comparative  ehronology,  as  I  read  these  histoiical  fragments, 
I  find  myself  constantly  forgetting  that  our  history  covers 
BO  small  a  portion  of  the  time,  and  that  Frederic  with  the 
Bitten  Cheek  was  not  a  cotemporary  of  Petrus  Stuyvesant. 
The  Seven  Years'  War,  here,  seems  no  farther  back  in  the 
Past  than  with  us  the  Missouri  Compromise.  The  explana^ 
tion  is,  perhaps,  that  we  live  more  in  the  same  length  of 
time. 

Let  me  look  out  of  the  window,  to  correct  the  digressive 
influences  of  my  contracted  study.  There !  the  sight  of 
yonder  mountain,  where 

"  Like  black  priests,  in  order  slow, 
Round  and  round,  row  after  row. 
Up  and  up  the  pine-trees  go, 
And  so  down  on  the  other  side — " 

brings  me  back  to  the  story.  It  was  a  family  pilgrimage, 
in  which  the  whole  household,  servants  excluded,  took 
part.  A  donkey  was  procured  for  our  little  one  and  her 
Russian  cousin,  respectively  three  and  four  years  old,  the 
two  occupying  a  single  saddle,  upon  which  they  were  sc 
tied  that  they  could  neither  fight  nor  fall  ofi^,  while  a  for- 
ward and  stupid  boy  held  the  bridle.    I  have  frequently 


2r>p.  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

noticed  that  men  degenerate  by  continual  intercoirrse  witli 
horses  (witness  grooms,  hackmen  and  jockeys),  swapping 
their  good  traits  with  the  animal,  for  his  vices.  This  boy 
proved  the  same  with  regard  to  donkeys.  He  brayed  ae 
continually,  and  concealed  a  talent  for  malidous  tricks 
under  a  like  aspect  of  innocent  stupidity.  However,  we 
were  too  much  interested  in  the  delight  of  the  children  to 
notice  such  traits  at  the  start. 

Passing  through  the  town,  we  followed  the  highway 
along  the  side  of  the  Kernberg,  around  its  eastern  base, 
and  through  a  dark  wood  into  the  neighboring  valley. 
How  surprising  was  the  aspect  of  this  quiet  and  seclusion, 
in  contrast  with  the  lively  Friedrichsroda  I  The  irregular 
valley-basin,  a  mile  in  diameter,  and  bounded  by  forests  on 
all  sides,  seemed  to  be  entirely  deserted.  The  picturesque 
little  village  of  Engelsbach,  in  the  centre,  was  finished  at 
least  a  century  ago,  and  has  stood  still  ever  since.  Now 
and  then  a  white-headed  child  popped  a  "  good  day  1"  at 
us  from  the  window,  but  adult  inhabitants  were  not  to  be 
seen.  They  were  oS  somewhere  in  the  "  under-land,"  or 
far  up  in  the  woods.  No  girls  gossipped  around  the  foun- 
tain, and  the  tavern-sign  creaked  with  a  lonely  sound,  for 
the  lusty  beer-drinkers  failed. 

Some  sculptured  fi-agments  built  into  the  churchyard 
wall  attracted  my  attention  ;  but  my  hope  of  discovering 
mediaeval  relics  was  soon  dissipated.  Under  a  half-lengtl 
bas-relief  of  a  man  with  incomplete  features  and  ver^ 
angular  muscles  was  the  inscription:  "Adam.  1747."— 
while  a  similar  being,  with  the  addition  of  two  inverted 
tea-cups  between  her  arms,  was  designated  "  Eva."     They 


A    HOME   IN   THE^  TUCKINGIAN   F0BB8T.  267 

were  the  work  of  a  pioug  wood-cutter — ^an  unconsoionB 
Pre-Raphaelite. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  valley  we  found  a  toll-house, 
where  the  boy  was  obliged  to  pay  for  his  donkey.  Here,  you 
pass  a  toll-tree  about  every  four  miles,  but  you  have  the 
finest  roads  in  the  world.  From  Friedrichsroda  to  Gotha 
and  back  (twenty  miles  in  all)  the  toll  is  about  twenty-five 
cents  for  a  two-horse  carriage,  which  is  little  enough  for  a 
macadamized  highway,  good  in  all  weathers  and  at  all 
seasons.  Loose  cattle  are  also  tolled :  in  fact,  pedestrians 
are  the  only  exempts.  "  The  ass  pays  nothing,"  said  our 
gate-keeper.  "  How — ^nothing  ?"  "  Why,  because  he  can't 
carry  money :  the  boy  pays  for  him" — and  the  old  man 
grinned  with  delight  at  a  jest  which  he  had  already 
repeated  seven  hundred  times. 

The  way  to  Altenberga  led  through  delicious  pastoral 
landscapes.  Through  the  smooth,  emerald  meadows 
wound  brooks  shaded  with  alder  trees,  while  the  heights 
were  clothed  with  mingled  woods  of  oak  and  fir.  The 
villages  of  Altenberga  and  Catterfeld,  on  opposite  slopes, 
are  united  by  a  narrow  isthmus  of  hill,  on  the  highest 
point  of  which  stands  a  fine  old  church,  in  a  grove  of 
lindens.  Below  it,  the  drainage  of  the  mountains  forms 
a  pool,  reflecting  the  sky  in  a  sheet  of  darker  blue.  The 
site  of  the  chapel  built  by  Bonifacius  is  on  the  summit  of 
the  mountain,  south  of  the  first-named  village.  Here,  in 
an  open  space,  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  the  forest,  is  a 
monument  of  sandstone,  thirty  feet  high,  in  the  form  of 
a  candlestick  Its  existence  is  owing  to  the  zeal  of  a  pious 
miller,  wnth  whom  originated  the  idea  of  thus  coramemo 


268  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

rating  the  spot.  The  eccentric  Duke  August  of  Saxe 
Gotha-Altenburg  designed  the  monument,  which  is  a  very 
heavy  candlestick  indeed.  The  gilded  flame  at  the  top  is 
divided  into  four  parts,  which,  as  there  is  no  doctrine  of  a 
Quaternity,  may  have  mystical  meaning  not  apparent  to 
us.  The  foundations  of  the  original  chapel  have  been  laid 
bare,  and  a  stone,  said  to  have  been  part  of  the  baptismal 
font,  stands  under  the  adjacent  trees :  but  it  is  evidently  of 
a  much  later  date.  There  seems  to  be  no  doubt,  however,  aa 
to  the  antiquity  of  the  foundation-walls,  which,  in  all  pro. 
bability,  are  those  laid  by  the  Apostle. 

We  returned  more  rapidly  than  we  went,  on  account  of 
the  difference  of  the  donkey's  pace  towards  home.  "We 
passed  Engelsbach  and  turned  the  corner  of  the  Kern- 
berg,  whence  the  narrow  grain-fields  along  the  slope  of 
Reinhardtsberg,  which  they  covered  as  with  a  mantle  of 
striped  and  watered  silk,  were  visible,  gleaming  with  a 
truly  silken  lustre  in  the  evening  sunshine.  The  children, 
crowded  together  in  the  saddle,  had  exhausted  the  novelty 
of  the  ride,  and  were  growing  tired.  They  were  a  little 
in  advance  of  us,  and  we  did  not  notice  that  the  donkey- 
boy,  who  was  tying  on  a  hat  which  one  of  them  had 
dropped,  had  carelessly  let  go  of  the  bridle.  All  at  once 
the  beast  sprang  forward,  and  in  a  second  was  out  of  the 
boy's  reach,  careering  at  full  gallop  along  the  highway. 
*  Run  for  your  life  !"  I  shouted  to  the  bewildei'ed  fellow, 
following  him  as  fast  as  my  strength  could  carry  me.  The 
terrified  children  screamed  as  they  were  violently  tossed  to 
and  fro,  helpless  and  happily  unaware  of  the  fearful  peril. 
I  ran,  as  it  were,  between  Death  and  Despair.    Behincl 


A   UOMB   UH  THE  THURINGIAIT   FOREST.  269 

me,  the  frantic  cries  of  two  mothers  ;  before  me,  the  twc 
young  lives,  flung  from  side  to  side,  as  by  a  wind,  which  at 
any  moment  might  blow  them  out  for  ever. 

The  sight  sickened  me  with  a  dread  which  I  never  felt 
before,  and  yet  I  could  not  turn  away  my  eyes.  One  tost 
on  the  highway,  hard  as  stone — one  more  bound,  and  thf 
fate  might  come !  And  with  all  the  speed  which  ray  des- 
peration could  give  me,  I  came  no  nearer.  The  cries 
ceased :  was  it  from  terror,  or  a  cause  I  dared  not  suspect  ? 
Something  hung  from  the  saddle — but  no !  let  me  draw  a 
veil  over  the  torture  of  those  few  moments.  I  had  run 
upwards  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  felt,  with  a  pang  of 
despair,  that  my  strength  would  soon  begin  to  feil,  when 
the  donkey  slackened  his  pace.  The  boy  soon  caught  and 
stopped  him,  and  I  saw,  as  I  approached,  that  the  saddle 
was  half-turned,  and  the  children  were  hanging  nearly  to 
the  ground.  To  cut  the  fastenings  which  held  them,  to 
catch  them  in  my  arms,  and  set  them  on  their  feet  to 
determine  whether  any  limbs  were  broken — all  this  hap- 
pened I  scarcely  know  how.  Thank  God  for  a  miracle! 
our  darlings  were  unharmed.  Shaken,  stunned,  and  terri- 
fied, they  were  yet  able  to  stand,  and  I  stepped  aside  that 
the  mothers  might  see  their  safety  before  they  came. 

We  walked  back  to  the  cottage,  silent  and  shuddering 
The  transition  from  our  careless  security  to  an  almost  hope- 
less horror,  and  our  release  from  the  latter,  had  been 
equally  sudden.  The  current  of  our  lives  flowed  onward 
in-its  accustomed  channel,  but  it  had  passed  over  a  bed  of 
ice,  and  retained  the  chill.  We  had  beheld  the  "  Vision 
of  Sudden  Death." 


2*10  AT  HOUB   AND   ABROAD. 

As  we  came  upon  the  height  where  our  cottage  stands 
the  sun  breaking  through  a  bank  of  clouds,  poured  an 
unspeakable  glory  upon  the  landscape.  Over  the  fir-wood 
of  the  Kernberg  gushed  a  torrent  of  golden  fire,  and  the 
summit-trees  stood  like  flickering  spires  of  flame  against  a 
background  of  storm.  Out  of  blue  shadow,  so  clear  that  it 
seemed  a  softer  light,  rose  the  burning  basalt  of  the  "  Praise- 
God,"  with  a  magnificent  fragment  of  rainbow  based  upon 
its  pointed  peak.  Strong  and  dazzling,  painted  in  intensest 
light,  and  crowned  with  an  altar-flame  of  sevenfold  color 
the  mountain  concentrated  in  itself  the  splendor  of  the 
dying  day.  But  in  name  and  in  lustre,  it  was  a  faint  sym- 
bol of  that  feeling  within  us  which  measured  the  mercy 
of  our  deliverance  by  the  depth  of  the  abyss  into  which 
we  had  gazed.  That  flaming  evangel  of  the  sunset  found 
itself  already  written  on  our  hearts — not  to  fade  as  the 
rainbow  faded,  not  to  narrow  itself  away  as  the  gleam  from 
the  darkening  forests.  And  that  night  our  unconscious 
darling  fell  asleep  with  a  halo  around  her  head,  and  tho 
wings  of  a  closer  and  humbler  tenderness  enfolding  her. 


9. — Thb  Forest  and  its  LE6Ein)s. 

JULT  24,  1861. 
A  week  of  walks  and  excursions— of  visits  and  domesti 
fStes — of  song  and  tradition,  of  historic  legend  so  ideal,  and 
pare  romance  so  real,  in  their  reciprocal  lints,  that  the  chief 
personages  of  both  walk  hand  in  hand  through  our  dreams 


A     HOME     IN    THE    THtJBINGIAN     FOREST.  271 

How  is  it  possible  to  keep  the  record  of  these  days  ?  An 
author  writes,  generally,  from  the  dearth  of  that  which  he 
desires:  where  life  gives  it  to  him  in  overflowing  measure, 
he  enjoys  and  is  silent.  I  know  of  a  youth,  the  son  of  a 
distinguished  poet,  who  was  laughed  at  for  saying  :  "  No, 
I  shall  not  wi^ite  poems,  though  I  inherit  the  faculty;  but  I 
am  going  to  do  a  much  finer  and  rarer  thing — I  shall  live  a 
poem  !  "  Now  the  youth  was  not  so  far  wrong  in  his 
notions;  but  he  overlooked  the  fact  that  a  poem  in  life  is 
as  little  the  result  of  a  cool  resolution,  as  a  poem  in  lan- 
guage. This  much  is  true,  however — that  the  poetic  epi- 
sodes in  our  own  experience  are  worth  more  to  us  than  all 
the  poems  we  write  or  read.  I  would  not  give  my  day  in 
the  Acropolis  for  all  Childe  Harold,  not  that  one  chapter 
of  the  Arabian  Nights  which  I  lived,  in  Aleppo,  for  the 
entire  Thousand  and  One. 

Halt,  hippogriff,  that  champest  the  bit,  scenting  the 
Orient  afar  off  !  And  you,  ye  Muses,  even  now  buckling 
his  girth,  and  putting  on  your  sandals  for  the  shining  high- 
way— unsaddle,  and  turn  him  loose,  to  graze  for  awhile  in 
these  green  Thuringian  meadows  !  Here  there  is  still  fresh 
pasture:  not  the  voluptuous  breath  of  the  musky  rose,  or 
the  tulip's  goblets  of  blood  and  fire,  but  sprinkled  hare- 
bells, as  if  the  summer  sky  had  rained  its  color  upon  the 
mountains,  blood-pinks,  which  spring  up  wherever  a  knight 
was  murdered,  in  the  old  feudal  times,  and  scentless  heath- 
er, the  delight  of  fairies.  Here,  in  some  wild  nook,  still 
grows  the  enchanted  Key-flower — the  golden  lily  of  Fable, 
which  opens  to  him  who  plucks  it  the  diamond  halls  of  the 
gnomes.     The  day  of  departure  will  come  but  too  soon, 


272  AT   HOMB   AND   ABROAD. 

let  US  gather  a  few  more  blossoms  for  the  wreath  we  shali 
hang  over  our  cottage-door ! 

I  have  been  struck,  in  reading  the  legends  of  the  Forest, 
with  the  family  likeness  which  they  present,  in  its  different 
districts.  The  repetition  of  the  same  story,  in  various  looa 
lities,  would  seem  to  indicate  a  very  remote  antiquity  of 
origin.  It  is  not  likely  that  one  neighborhood  would  bor^ 
row  of  another,  but  the  fragments  of  the  original  tribe, 
migrating  hither,  and  scattering  themselves  among  the 
valleys,  would  presei-ve  the  common  legendary  stock,  and 
gradually  attach  it  to  their  several  homes.  The  legend  of 
the  Key-flower,  one  of  the  most  beautiful,  is  thus  found  in 
a  number  of  places.  Sometimes  the  blossom  is  of  a  won- 
derful golden  color  :  sometimes  it  is  blue  or  purple :  but  the 
story  is  the  same.  A  herdsman  sees  the  flower  on  the 
mountain.  Attracted  by  its  beauty,  he  plucks  it  and  puts 
it  in  his  hat.  Immediately  he  perceives  an  open  door  in 
the  mountain-side.  The  passage  conducts  him  to  an  im- 
mense subterranean  hall,  sparkling  with  its  heaps  of  gold 
and  jewels.  A  gray-bearded  gnome,  the  guardian  of  these 
treasures,  says  to  him :  "  Take  what  you  want,  but  don't 
forget  the  best !"  He  fills  his  pockets,  his  bosom,  and  final- 
ly his  hat,  the  old  gnome  still  crying :  "  don't  forget  the 
best  1  The  flower  falls  upon  the  earth,  but  he  hastens  away 
without  noticing  it.  "  Don't  forget  the  best  I"  shouts  the 
gnome  for  the  last  time.  There  is  a  clap  of  thunder,  and 
the  herdsman  rushes  to  the  open  air,  the  gates  banging  be- 
hind him.  The  door  has  disappeared ;  the  gold  and  jewels 
are  nothing  but  dry  leaves.  He  has  forgotten  the  best — ^the 
enchanted  Key-flower,  by  the  possession  of  which  hie  gold 


A    HOME  IX  THE  THURINGIAN   FOREST.  273 

would  have  remained  gold,  and  the  doors  opened  to  him  as 
often  as  he  might  choose  to  come.     He  never  sees  it  again. 

The  legend  of  Tannhauser,  the  home  of  which  we  can  see 
rom  any  of  the  heights  near  us,  has  gone  around  the  world 
nd  I  need  not  repeat  it.  There  are  some  curious  local 
uperstitions  connected  with  it,  and  the  story  seems  to  hav 
ieen  confounded  by  the  peasants  with  another  apd  earliei 
legend.  The  "  Venus"  of  Tannhauser  becomes  identified 
in  their  mouths,  with  "  Frau  HoUe,"  who  evidently  belongs 
to  the  Pagan  period — perhaps  the  Hela  of  Scandinavian 
mythology.  When  it  snows,  the  people  say  :  "  Frau  HoUe 
is  plucking  her  geese."  Occasionally,  in  the  winter,  she 
leads  a  chase  of  airy  hounds,  like  the  Wild  Huntsman  of 
the  Odeuwald.  Wo  to  him  who  should  dare  to  look  on 
this  infernal  rout  1  His  head  would  be  instantly  twisted 
around,  and  his  face  would  look  behind  him  for  the  rest  of 
his  days.  But  the  faithful  Eckart,  the  squire  of  Tannhau- 
ser, who  sits  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  awaiting  his  master's 
return,  always  goes  forth — ^in  the  shape  of  an  old  man  with 
staff  and  silver  beard — ^in  advance  of  the  wild  chase,  and 
warns  those  whom  he  meets  to  throw  themselves  on  their 
faces  until  it  has  passed  by. 

In  the  Venus-Mountain — ^but  two  hours'  drive  from  our 
cottage — there  is  really  a  cavern,  which  has  not  yet  been 
thoroughly  explored,  so  far  as  I  can  learn.  Peasants  who 
have  ventured  into  the  entrance,  of  course  report  that  they 
see  the  figure  of  Eckart  sitting  in  the  dusky  shades  beyond. 
Two  or  three  centuries  ago,  the  story  runs,  a  number  of 
boys  who  were  pasturing  horses  on  the  mountain,  agreed 
bO  go  in  and  explore  the  secrets  of  tlie  cave.    Turning  loos« 


274  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

i^heir  horses,  they  took  the  bridles,  attached  themselves  if 
one  another,  in  single  file,  and  boldly  entered.  But,  as  th« 
daylight  disappeared  behind  them,  the  last  boy  in  the  line 
was  seized  with  a  dread  so  powerful  that  he  cut  the  thong, 
and  stood  still,  watching  the  light  of  the  splints  they  had 
kindled  disappear,  one  by  one,  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 
Then  he  crept  back  towards  the  entrance,  calling  loudly 
and  fearfully  on  his  lost  companions.  They  never  returned. 
The  boy  was  found  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  at  twilight, 
by  the  alarmed  peasants ;  but  he  steadily  pined  away  from 
that  hour,  and  died  in  a  few  months.  The  noises  which  at 
times  issue  from  the  cavern  add  to  the  terror  with  which  it 
is  still  regarded.  The  author  Bechstein,  whom  no  one 
would  accuse  of  an  excess  of  imagination,  states  that  once, 
when  standing  on  the  mountain,  he  was  surprised  by  a  sud- 
den subterranean  roar,  like  that  of  a  mighty  cataract,  the 
cause  of  which  he  was  utterly  unable  to  discover. 

—  Thus,  in  the  mornings,  we  read  history  and  legend 
in  the  afternoons,  we  wander  off  to  some  point  which  they 
celebrate.  We  have  climbed  to  the  Schauenburg,  the  fast- 
ness of  Ludwig  the  Bearded,  first  Landgrave  of  Thtlrin^a, 
luring  even  the  little  one  up  to  the  height,  by  the  discovery 
of  a  wild  strawberry,  here  and  there.  Buried  in  harebells 
and  heather,  we  watched  the  shadows  of  the  clouds  and 
mountains  fold  themselves  over  the  broad,  sunny  landscape, 
DOW  quenching  the  castle  of  Gotha,  now  disclosing  the 
sparkling  house  on  the  Seeberg,  and  finally  filling  with 
evening-smoke  tlio  valley  of  Friedrichsroda.  Nothing  of 
the  Schauenburg  remains,  except  the  foundation  of  one  of 
ilie  romid  towers.     Invisible  herdsmen,  far  across  the  deep 


A    HOME   IN   THE   THURINGIAN   FOBBST.  275 

gulfs  of  the  hills,  answered  our  shouts,  and  the  rausica! 
chime  of  a  thousand  bells,  faintly  flung  upon  our  ears  by 
the  wandering  puffs  of  air,  seemed  the  very  voice  of  the 
Earth,  humming  to  herself  some  happy  strain  of  the  sum- 
ner. 

Then,  there  was  the  Baron's  birth-day,  when  we  met  the 
jubilant  family  at  the  Hunters'  Rest,  and  walked  three 
miles  along  the  wooded  comb  of  the  Forest,  led  by  B.,  the 
mighty  hunter.  We  were  bound  for  the  Glassback  Rock, 
a  lonely  ledge  on  the  Hessian  side  of  the  mountains,  known 
but  to  few,  and  hard  to  find.  B.  confidently  took  the  lead, 
but,  meeting  with  a  forester  who  reported  a  stag  in  the 
neighborhood,  the  two  darted  off  together  into  the  woods. 
The  remainder  of  us,  thus  forsaken,  became  entangled  in 
the  wood-paths,  uncertain  whether  to  advance  or  fall  back. 
Our  combined  shout  was  suflScient  to  frighten  any  stag 
within  a  mile's  distance,  and  the  result  was  soon  manifest, 
in  the  return  of  the  two  indignant  hunters. 

We  sat  upon  the  Glassback  Rock,  hanging  over  fifty 
miles  of  mountain  landscape,  singing  the  peasant  songs  of 
Thiiringia,  and  staining  our  clothes  with  crushed  whortle- 
berries. B.,  however,  was  determined  to  have  a  stag  before 
sunset,  and  hurried  us  back,  through  one  of  the  most  ex- 
quisite sylvan  dells  in  the  world.  At  the  Hunters'  Rest,  a 
long  table  was  set  in  the  open  air,  and  the  balmy  odor  of 
boiled  potatoes  greeted  us.  Butter  as  sweet  as  new  chest- 
nuts, with  the  creamy,  honeycombed  cheese  of  Swiss  val- 
leys and  ruddy  Westphalian  ham,  studded  the  board,  and 
tbe  Bajon,  as  he  caught  sight  of  certain  slender  urns  of 
purple  and  green,  began  to  sing : — 


276  AT   HOME   AN^   ABB0A1>. 

"  So  crown  with  leaves  the  dear,  the  brimming  beakec^ 
And  drain  its  liquid  bliss: 
Search  Europe  over,  jovial  nectar-fleeker, 
There's  no  such  wine  as  this  I" 

f Vack  I  went  a  rifle  in  a  neighboring  copse,  before  even  th 
^irth  day  health  had  been  drunk.  Presently  we  saw  B. 
flourishing  his  gray  hunter's  hat,  followed  by  two  of  his 
sons,  with  rifle  and  powder-flask,  and  the  forester,  bearing 
a  tawny  load.  To  him  the  potatoes  were  sweeter,  and  the 
wine  more  inspiring,  than  to  any  of  us.  Then  followed 
leap-frog  among  the  men  and  boys,  with  various  games 
wherein  the  ladies  could  take  part,  and  thus  the  dew-fall 
came  unawares,  warning  us  down  the  mountain-side. 

Our  most  recent  exploit  is  the  ascent  of  the  Inselsberg 
in  «  hay-wagon,  by  moonlight.  Our  departure  from  the 
cottage  was  postponed  so  long  that  no  other  vehicle  could 
be  obtained.  The  clumsy,  bone-shattering  afiair  was  drawn 
by  an  old  gray  horse,  driven  by  a  peasant  in  a  green  blouse. 
The  last  streak  of  sunset  burned  on  Kyfi'hauser,  the  castle 
of  Barbarossa,  and  the  Golden  Mead,  as  we  reached  the 
crest  of  the  mountain ;  but  the  moon  was  already  in  the 
sky,  and  for  three  hours  our  course  lay  through  an  enchanted 
realm.  The  air  was  breathless,  and,  to  our  surprise,  far 
warmer  and  balmier  than  in  the  valleys  ;  the  brown  shadows 
of  beeches  and  firs,  on  our  road,  belted  the  silver  of  the 
noon  ;  and  far  down,  on  either  side,  glimmered  a  dim,  blue, 
mysterious  world.  Snake-like  wreaths  of  vapor  crept  along 
the  courses  of  the  streams ;  the  distant  forests  lay  like 
flecks  of  cloud,  and  the  horizon  was  girdled  with  a  lumi- 
nous belt.    It  was  eleven  o'clock  when  we  reached  the  hons« 


A    HOME   IN    THB  THUEINGIAN    FOKEST.  277 

ou  the  summit,  which  was  so  thronged  with  guests  that  the 
kind  hostess  was  obliged  to  give  us  her  own  room. 

We  descended  by  way  of  the  Portal  Rock  into  the 
Monsters'  Ravine.  Of  course  we  stopped  at  Henneberg'f 
Mill  for  a  draught  of  beer.  '*  Give  it  to  the  little  one  !*» 
said  the  green  coachman,  "  it's  good  for  children.  Why, 
I  have  a  child  that  had  to  be  weaned  at  six  months,  and 
we  gave  it  as  much  beer  as  cow's-milk.  It's  thirty  yearg 
old  now,  and  has  so  much  forsch  (force)  and  so  much 
Bchpritt  (esprit)  that  you  wouldn't  believe !  It  seems  to 
feel  the  good  o'  the  beer  yet  1"  We  laughed  heartily  at 
this,  not  so  much  at  the  idea  of  '*  bringing  up  by  hand''  on 
beer,  as  at  the  comical  effect  of  the  Germanized  French 
words,  which  are  handed  down  among  the  peasants  from 
the  Napoleonic  times. 

The  term  "  Forest"  here  represents  something  very 
different  from  our  wild  woods  in  America.  A  western 
settler,  fresh  from  his  girdled  clearings,  would  be  amazed, 
at  finding  these  wooded  mountains  more  carefully  looked 
after  than  his  own  garden-patch.  There  is  not  a  nook  in 
the  whole  length  and  breadth  of  the  chain,  that  is  not 
regularly  visited  and  guarded— where  the  trees  are  not 
counted,  measured,  and  subjected  to  sanitary  inspection. 
When  a  trunk  is  ripe,  anywhere,  down  it  comes.  But  aa 
for  a  stump  to  tell  where  it  stood,  such  shameful  waste  is 
unknown  here.  The  roots  are  carefully  extracted,  do  wo 
to  the  very  fangs,  the  earth  smoothed,  and  a  young  tree 
set  in  the  place.  You  sometimes  overlook  miles  of  forest, 
on  the  steepest  slopes,  every  tree  of  which  was  planted. 
The    straight  rows,   converging  from   the  base  towardt 


278  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

the  iuminit,  or  slanting  obliquely  along  the  side  io 
regular  parallels,  are  not  agreeable  to  the  eye.  These 
artificial  signs  disappear  as  the  trees  become  older,  but 
the  forest  never  entirely  recovers  the  unstudied  grace  of 
nature. 

So  carefully  is  this  wood-culture  fostered,  that  it  is  pro- 
hibited to  break  a  branch,  or  pull  up  a  young  seedling. 
The  Forest  is  the  property  of  the  State,  and  quite  an  army 
of  woodmen  is  necessary  in  order  to  look  after  its  interests. 
The  amount  of  wood  felled  every  year  is  carefully  propor- 
tioned to  the  growth,  so  that  the  main  stock  is  never  dimi- 
nished In  some  districts  the  finer  twigs  and  roots  are  the 
perquisites  of  the  adjacent  villages,  and  quite  an  interesting 
discussion  is  going  on  at  this  time,  between  some  of  the 
latter  and  the  State,  as  to  the  precise  point  where  the 
trunk  terminates  and  the  root  begins.  From  eighty  to  a 
hundred  and  twenty  years,  according  to  the  locality,  is  the 
time  required  for  the  maturity  of  the  trees. 

When  we  consider  that  game,  also,  comes  under  the 
same  regulations,  we  must  call  the  entire  mountain-range 
of  the  Thflringian  Forest  a  park  on  the  grandest  possible 
scale.  We  lose,  it  is  true,  the  charm  of  wild,  tangled, 
irregular  woods — of  tracts  of  wilderness  over  which  still 
hovers  the  atmosphere  of  exploration — of  that  utter  seclu- 
sion which  comes  from  the  absence  of  any  trace  of  man 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  we  have,  everywhere, — on  raoun 
tain-top  and  in  remotest  glen — the  accessibility  of  a  garden, 
the  warm  atmosphere  of  care  and  culture,  and  the  con 
trary,  but  equal  charm,  of  the  nearness  of  man.  Centuriei 
must  elapse  before  any  system  of  this  kind  can  be  neces 


A    HOME  IN    THE   TMDEIXGIAN   TOBEST.  27fi 

sary  in  America.     It  is  the  difference  between  a  settlement 
of  two  hundred  and  two  thousand  years. 

Meanwhile,  let  me  rejoice  in  the  fact  that  I  have  taller 
oaks  of  my  own,  at  home,  than  any  I  have  seen  here  ;  that  my 
tulip-trees,  a  hundred  feet  high,  are  masses  of  starry  bloom, 
while  the  single  starveling  specimen  at  Reinhardtsbrunn 
never  blossoms ;  and  that  my  chestnuts  stand  twenty-four 
feet  in  girth,  while  here  they  cannot  grow !  In  the  Philo- 
sophy of  Compensation  one  finds  the  surest  source  of 
contentment. 


1 0. — D  A  Y-D  REAMS — ^DeP  AETURB. 

JdLT  81,  1861. 

"  Must  I  leave  thee.  Paradise  ?**  says  Milton's  Eve ;  but 
on  this  last  day  of  our  cottage-life  in  the  mountains,  I,  the 
Adam  of  our  temporary  Eden,  ask  the  same  regretful 
question.  Our  fate  is  fixed.  No  amount  of  rent,  paid  in 
advance,  will  enable  us  to  tarry  longer  on  the  banks  of  the 
Four  Rivers :  the  cherub  has  warned  us,  and  the  flaming 
sword  which  he  carries,  to  drive  us  away,  is  a  previous 
lease  of  the  cottage  to  an  English  family,  who  take  posses 
sion  to-morrow.  We  have  been  whirled  for  a  month  into 
a  quiet  eddy,  where  our  waves  have  been  still  enough  to 
mirror  the  flowers  on  tha  banks.  Now  the  roaring  stream 
takes  us  again. 

Why  should  it  take  us  at  all?  Why  should  we  not 
regulate  our  lives  in  accordance  with  the  common  sense  of 
our  own  natures,  whether  or  not  it  chimes  in  with  the  con* 


280  AT  HOME  A.THO  ABBOAD. 

mon  sense  of  the  world  ?  On  every  side  we  see  blossomi 
that  only  seem  to  wait  for  our  plucking ;  every  wind  brings 
us  their  betraying  odors  ;  yet  we  turn  away,  and  go  on 
with  our  old  business  of  pulling  thistles,  no  matter  how 
our  hands  bleed.  A  great  portion  of  our  lives  is  spent  in 
achieving  something  that  we  do  not  actually  need.  If 
Wealth — the  chief  result  is,  that  we  leave  our  children  more 
than  is  wholesome  for  them :  if  Fame,  the  "  bad  picture  and 
worse  bust "  grin  at  us  their  derisive  answer :  if  Power, 
we  give  up  the  sanctity  of  life,  and  allow  a  thousand 
curious  or  malicious  eyes  to  peer  into  our  dressing-room. 
Now,  wealth  that  is  won  without  too  exhausting  a  strug- 
gle, fame  that  comes  unsought,  and  power  unconsciously 
exercised,  are  things  to  be  desired;  but  they  are  gifts 
which  only  some  chosen  favorite  of  Fortune  receives,  and 
we  must  gauge  our  expectations  by  the  common  experience 
of  man.  , 

On  the  ridge,  between  our  cottage  and  the  Felsenkeller, 
there  is  a  granite  block,  whereon  you  read  :  "  In  the  cheer- 
ful evening  of  life  walked  here,  grateful  to  God,  Frederic 
Perthes."  It  is  one  of  those  memorials  which  you  never 
find  but  in  Germany.  Elsewhere,  the  dead  body  is  re- 
corded, not  the  joys,  or  triumphs,  or  the  tranquil  happiness 
of  the  living  man.  The  universal  record  simply  tells  you 
the  individual  has  ceased  to  exist :  here  you  leani  where  ht 
ived,  enjoyed,  and  was  grateful.  The  mellow  glow  of  his 
cheerful  evening  of  life,  not  the  damp  chill  of  his  tomb 
lingers  upon  the  spot  Thus,  on  a  house  in  the  Rosenau, 
near  Leipzig,  you  read  :  "  Here  Schiller  wrote  his  Hymn 
to  Joy.**     Give  me  some  such  inscription  of  a  moment  of 


A    HOME   IN   THE   TuiJEINGIAN   FORBBT.  281 

full,  inspired  life,  and  I  will '  be  satisfied  with  a  namelesii 
grave! 

Around  this  monument  of  Perthes,  the  grass  is  bright 
with  harebells  and  daisies.  On  one  side,  you  look  down 
upon  Friedrichsroda,  and  past  the  basaltic  cone  of  the 
Praise-God  into  the  deep  green  glen  behind  ;  on  the  other, 
pen  the  park  of  Reinhardtsbrunn,  abutting  against  the 
lofty  Abbot's  Mountain,  beyond  which  rises  the  Evil 
Mountain,  dark  and  lowering.  The  sweetest  winds  of  the 
Forest  reach  this  spot,  and  thence  you  have  the  loveliest 
pictures  of  sunset.  Here,  say  we,  let  us  build  a  cottage  of 
our  own — a  little  ark  of  refuge  whither  we  may  fly,  at 
intervals,  from  the  stormy  life  of  our  American  home,  from 
the  brightness  of  its  newer  heaven  and  earth,  to  enjoy  the 
contrast  of  this  intense  quiet,  this  veiled  atmosphere  of  the 
Past.  Here  is  an  air  in  which  my  unwritten  poems  may 
ripen  :  where  something  worthy  of  the  divine  art  may  be 
reached — something  which  men  may  take  to  their  hearts 
and  cherish  for  its  loveliness.  Then,  if  any  one,  long 
afterwards,  should  place  a  tablet  over  the  cottage-door,  or 
a  head-stone  ipon  its  site,  saying :  "  Here  he  wrote,"  my 
memory  would  become  a  portion  of  the  cheerfulness  and 
the  delight  of  others,  not  of  their  grave  and  solemn 
thoughts. 

But,  alas  !  how  many  castles  of  this  sort  have  I  builded 
— and  only  one,  as  yet,  stands  realized  in  stone  and  mortar  I 
I  have  a  tropical  home  on  the  mountain  terrace  of  Jalapa, 
embowered  in  coffee-trees,  with  a  view  of  Orizaba  from  my 
study- window.  I  have  a  palace  on  the  lower  slope  of  Etna, 
with  hanging  gardens  of  aloe,  orange,  and  palm — a  Moor 


282  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

ish  tower,  overlooking  the  Vega  of  Granada,  and  an  empt} 
tomb  (cleansed  of  bats),  in  the  limestone  crags  of  Goorneh 
with  the  plain  of  Thebes  at  my  feet.  Then,  there  is  my 
little  ranche  in  the  valley  of  San  Jose,  in  the  perfect  atmo- 
sphere of  California  I  How  to  pluck  these  aromatic  bios- 
ioms  from  the  rough,  prickly  stem  of  life  ?  Ample  means 
might  do  it,  but  where  would  be  the  sweet  satisfaction  of  a 
home,  or  the  full  maturity  of  mind,  the  want  of  which 
is  one's  chief  source  of  unrest  ?  If  an  oyster  could  change 
his  shell,  at  pleasure,  I  presume  there  would  be  no  pearls. 
Yes,  but  the  pearl  is  a  disease,  you  say :  art,  literature, 
science,  yoii  may  add,  flow  from  restless  and  unsatisfied 
natures.  Why  not  take  the  existence  this  planet  offers,  in 
all  its  richest  and  loveliest  phases,  and  thus  make  Life  itsell 
your  art  and  your  passion  ? 

Because  I  cannot.  Give  me  means,  time,  freedom  from 
restraining  ties — still  I  cannot.  Leave  the  Christian  ideh 
of  Duty  out  of  sight — separate  the  question  from  its  moral 
aspects — still,  we  are  so  constituted  that  our  truest  enjoy- 
ment comes  through  the  force  of  contrast.  We  receive 
delight  from  Nature,  not  by  passive  sensation,  but  from 
faculties  whose  activity  is  not  limited  by  such  delight — 
faculties  which  will  not  allow  us  to  be  still  and  enjoy. 
Why  should  I  not  sit,  with  folded  hands,  and  be  satisfied 
with  feeling  these  thoughts  lazily  ripple  along  the  shores  Oj 
the  mind,  instead  of  grappling  with  language,  and  achiev- 
ing, at  best,  an  imperfect  expression  ?  Because  the  strug. 
gle  is  necessary,  in  order  to  give  coherent  shape  to  thought 
You  may  imagine  any  amount  of  perfect  statues  in  tht 
marble  quarry,  but  your  true  joy  is  in  the  slow  result  0l 


A    HOME   IN   THE  THUKINGIAN   FOREST.  288 

the  chisel.     Expression  rewards  one,  not  only  by  the  sense 
of  something  accomplished,  but  by  giving  palpable  form 
and  visible  color  to  the  vagae  delight  of  the  mind. 
Nature,  thus,  provides  against 

"  pampering  the  coward  beait 
"With  feeUnga  all  too  delicate  for  oae." 

The  Sybarites,  I  suspect,  were  the  most  peevish  and  un 
happy  creatures  of  their  time.  For  my  part,  I  know  per- 
fectly well  that  if  I  could  build  my  cottage,  and  remain  here, 
even  engaged  in  healthy  sfUdy,  I  should  finally  miss  the 
encounter  with  other  minds,  the  breezy  agitation  of  com- 
plex life,  in  some  of  the  great  Vanity  Fairs  of  the  world. 
So  the  day-dream  fades :  but  it  is  not  too  much  to  substi- 
tute such  an  occasional  holiday  for  the  flashy  aims  wherein 
others  find  their  happiness.  We  have  made  our  home  here, 
for  instance,  at  a  lower  expenditure  than  a  month  in  the 
whirlpool  of  Saratoga  would  require.  I  am  willing  that  my 
fashionable  friends  should  say:  "Poor  fellow!  he  cannot 
keep  a  carriage,"  so  long  as  I  can  reply,  "  Yes,  but  I  keep 
a  cottage.''  What  if  I  cannot  give  balls,  while  I  can  give 
sunsets,  and  twilights,  and  summer  moons  to  my  friends  I 
We  have  served  up  the  superb  mountain  landscape,  in  all 
lights,  to  our  visitors  from  the  neighboring  city,  and  I  am 
sure  they  regret  our  departure. 

Here,  then,  is  an  end  to  a  quiet  which  has  been  all  the 
sweeter,  because  it  was  unsought.  I  hear,  already,  the 
grating  of  the  upper  and  nether  mill-stones  of  every-daj 
life,  and  prepare  to  jump  into  the  hopper.  Trumpets  peal 
from  across  the  Atlantic,  and  this  pure  air  of  Peace  chok» 


284  AT   HOME    AST)   ABEOAT). 

rae  while  my  brethren  are  breathing  the  dust  of  battle,  1 
drop  the  painted  cards,  wherewith  I  have  been  building  up 
an  imaginary  existence,  and  return  to  the  rough  bricks  and 
gritty  mortar  which  await  rae.  As  T  bear  our  beloved  flag 
flapping  from  the  cottage-gable,  I  feel  how  much  more  thar. 
by  years  of  splendid  indolence  in  the  fairest  regions  of  the 
Earth  has  my  life  been  enriched  by  participation  in  one  of 
the  most  important  crises  of  History — ^how  grand  a  thing 
it  is  to  have  seen,  once  in  one's  life,  an  aroused,  inspired  and 
unselfish  People !  It  is,  thus,  not  reluctantly,  but  with  a 
solemn  joy,  that  I  return,  to  be  present  when  Ormuzd  and 
Ahriraan — the  Powers  of  Light  and  Darkness — fight  for  the 
mastery  of  a  Continent  I 


Evening. 
In  half  an  hour  the  postillion  will  be  here.  Our  personal 
effects  are  packed  up,  and  the  bedding,  kitchen  utensils  and 
table  furniture  (the  silver  spoons  carefully  counted)  are  at 
the  service  of  the  new-comers.  The  little  one  has  run 
around  the  garden  for  the  last  time,  and  has  no  doubt  pulled 
the  last  fat  gooseberry  from  the  despoiled  bushes.  Our 
flag  has  been  taken  down,  rolled  up  and  sent  to  Dr.  K.,  with 
an  immense  dispatch  (sealed  with  a  double  Prussian  tha< 
er) — a  copy  of  which  I  give : 

"WE, 
B.  T.,  by  the  grace  of  God  Citizen  of  the  United  States  of 
America,  have  found  Ourself  favorably  moved,  and  hercL 
with  graciously  decree,  that  our  worthy  friend.  Dr.  T.  K. 
be  appointed  our  Minister  Plenipotentiary  and  Ambassador 
Extraordinary  to  the  city  of  Friednchsroda ;  empowering 


A    nOAIE   IX   THE  THURINGIAN  70RBST.  286 

him,  in  times  of  danger,  to  place  himself  under  the  protec 
tion  of  our  national  flag ;  to  display  the  same  on  all  publie 
occasions,  in  token  of  his  diplomatic  character,  and  in  asser 
tion  of  his  neutrality,  in  case  of  foreign  invasion.  Further, 
we  herewith  warn  all  authorities,  whatever  they  may  be, 
gainst  interfering  with  the  rights  and  powers  hereby 
granted  to  him,  since  such  interference  would  provoke  our 
extreme  displeasure,  and  might  result  in  serious  complica- 
tions between  Powers  hitherto  friendly. 

"  Given  at  Friedrichsroda,  this  3l8t  day  of  July,  A,  D. 
1861." 

I  have  no  doubt  that  the  good  Dr.  will  justify  the  extra- 
ordinary confidence  wherewith  he  has  been  invested.  And 
now,  farewell !  The  postillion's  bugle,  sounding  nearer  aa 
he  climbs  the  hill,  warns  us  with  the  unrestful  melody : 

"  A  rose  in  his  hat  And  a  staff  in  his  band, 
The  pilgrim  must  wander,  from  land  onto  land- 
Through  many  a  city,  o'er  many  a  plain: 
Bat  ah,  he  must  leave  them,  must  wander  ag»iir  I" 


IV. 


A   WALK  THROUGH  THE  FRANCONIAN  SWIT- 
ZERLAND. 

Every  one  has  heard  of  Franconia — the  old  Frankerdand^ 
or  Land  of  the  Franks — but  as  no  branch  of  knowledge 
v/hich  we  acquire  at  school  is  so  neglected  in  after-life  aa 
geography,  it  will  do  no  harm  if  I  explicitly  describe  its 
position  Franconia  occupies  the  very  heart  of  Germany 
and,  consequently,  of  Europe,  so  far  as  the  rivers  of  the 
continent  fix  its  central  point.  Springs,  which  rise  within 
a  circle  two  miles  in  diameter,  send  their  waters  to  the 
Black  Sea,  the  German  Ocean,  and  the  British  ChanneL 
Draw  a  line  from  Nuremberg  to  Dresden,  and  another 
from  Hanover  to  Ratisbon,  on  the  Danube,  and  their  inter- 
section will  give  you,  very  nearly,  the  centre  of  Franconia, 
The  Frankish  Mountains  are  an  offshoot  of  that  long  irre- 
gular chain,  which,  leaving  the  Rhine  as  it  issues  from  the 
Lake  of  Constance,  forms  a  vast  curve  through  the  very 
heart  of  Europe,  embracing  the  Black  Forest,  the  Oden- 
wald,  Spessart,  the  Rhon,  theThuringia  Forest,  the  Erzge- 
birge,  the  Giant's  Mountains,  and   the   Carpathians   and 


A  WALK.  THROUGH  TUE  FRANCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.     28? 

Transylvanian  Alps.  Franconia  lies  south  of  the  axis  ol 
this  chain,  but  its  streams  are  nearly  equally  tributary  to 
the  Danube,  the  Elbe,  and  the  Rhine.  Politically,  it  nevei 
had  an  independent  existence.  Divided  during  the  feudal 
ages  into  a  number  of  quarrelsome  baronies,  it  was  after 
ward  parcelled  between  the  Bishopric  of  Bamberg  and  the 
Principalities  of  Bayreuth  and  Anspach,  but  since  1809  hag 
been  incorporated  into  the  Kingdom  of  Bavaria. 

This  region,  less  interesting  in  a  historical  point  of  view 
than  on  account  of  its  remarkable  scenery  and  its  curioug 
deposits  of  fossil  remains,  is  very  rarely  visited  by  other 
than  German  tourists.  The  railroads  from  Leipzig  and 
Frankfort-on-the-Main  to  Munich  pass  within  sight  of  its 
mountains,  but  few  indeed  are  the  travellers  who  leave  these 
highways,  unless  at  Schweinfurt  for  the  baths  of  Kissingen, 
or  at  Hof  for  those  of  Eger  and  Carlsbad. 

Indeed,  in  my  own  case,  the  journey  through  the  Fran- 
conian  Switzerland  requires  a  little  explanation.  The  pri- 
mary cause  of  it  was  the  construction  of  seats  in  the 
passenger-cars  on  American  railways !  During  nearly  six 
months  in  the  year,  for  three  years,  I  had  been  obliged  to 
use  those  inconveniences,  and  the  result  of  this  (for  a  tall 
man)  continual  cramping,  and  wedging,  and  jarring,  was  a 
serious  injury  to  the  knee-joints,  which  threatened  to  unfit 
ne  for  duty  as  a  pedestrian.  Had  I  been  enrolled  among 
he  ranks  of  our  gallant  volunteers,  I  am  afraid  I  should 
have  fallen  by  the  wayside  before  the  end  of  the  first  day's 
march.  Some  years  ago  I  had  occasion  to  regret  that  the 
directors  of  all  railroad  companies  were  not  uniformly  seven 
feet  high,  and  I  now  repeat  it  with  emphasis.     The  Cam 


288  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

den  and  Amboy  Railroad  is  to  me  simply  a  torture,  the 
Philadelphia  and  Baltimore  the  rack,  and  from  Baltimore 
to  Washington  I  am  broken  on  the  wheel.  It  is  greatly  to 
be  regretted  that  the  fares  on  these  roads  are  so  very  low, 
and  the  business  so  insignificant,  that  the  companies  can 
ot  aflford  greater  space  for  passengers. 

The  prescription  was:  Moderate  daily  exercise,  carefully 
timed  so  as  to  avoid  unusual  fatigue.  But  I  am  one  of 
those  persons  who  cannot  walk  simply  for  the  sake  of  exer. 
cise  ;  I  must  have  an  object  for  locomotion.  If  I  were  to 
earry  stones,  like  De  Quincy  on  the  Edinburgh  turnpike,  I 
should  be  crippled  in  an  hour,  but  place  me  in  a  winding 
valley,  where  every  turn  discloses  an  unknown  landscape, 
and  I  shall  hold  out  for  half  a  day.  So  the  first  thing  I 
did,  after  reaching  Germany,  was  to  select  an  interesting 
field  wherein  to  commence  my  Walking-Cure.  Saxony, 
Thtlringia,  the  Black  Forest,  the  Hartz,  I  knew  already ; 
but  here,  within  a  day's  railroad  travel  of  my  summer  home, 
lay  Franconia,  with  its  caverns,  its  dolomite  rocks,  and  its 
fir-clad  mountains.  In  one  month  from  the  day  I  left  New 
York  I  found  myself  at  Forchheim,  on  the  railroad  between 
Bamberg  and  Nuremberg,  and  on  the* western  border  of 
the  Franconian  Switzerland. 

Here  I  commence  my  narrative. 

The  omnibus  for  Streitberg  was  in  waiting,  with  two 
passengers  besides  myself.  The  first  was  a  pleasant  old 
gentleman,  who  I  soon  discovered  was  a  Professor  from  the 
University  of  Erlangen — a  graduate  of  Gottingen  in  1816, 
where  he  was  fellow-student  with  George  Ticknor  and 
Edward  Everett.    Then  entered  a  miserable-looking  man, 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  PBANCONLASf  SWnZERLAND.    289 

with  a  face  wearing  the  strongest  expression  of  distress  and 
disgust.  He  had  scarcely  taken  his  seat  before  he  burst 
into  loud  lamentations.  "  No,  such  a  man !"  he  cried  ;  "  I 
have  never  met  such  a  dreadful  man.  I  could  not  get  rid 
of  him ;  he  stuck  to  me  like  a  blue-fly.  Because  I  said  to 
one  of  the  passengers,  '  I  see  from  your  face  that  you  have 
studied,'  he  attacked  me.  'What  do  you  think  from  my 
face,  that  I  am  ?'  he  said.  I  didn't  care  what  he  was. 
'  I'm  not  very  well  dressed,'  said  he,  '  but  if  I  had  my  best 
clothes  on  you  might  guess  twenty-four  horn's  before  you 
could  make  me  out !'  Oh,  the  accursed  man !  What  did 
I  care  about  him?  'Don't  go  to  Streitberg!'  he  said, 
'  stop  at  Forchheim.  Go  to  the  Three  Swans.  If  you  stay 
there  a  day,  you'll  stay  three ;  if  you  stay  three  days,  you'll 
stay  three  weeks.  But  what  do  you  take  me  for?'  'A 
journeyman  shoemaker !»  I  cried,  in  desperation.  '  No, 
you're  wrong ;  I'm  a  dancing-master !'  Holy  Saint  Peter, 
what  a  man !"  After  this  I  was  not  surprised  when  the 
narrator  informed  us  that  he  was  very  eick,  and  was  going 
to  Streitberg  to  try  the  "  whey-cure." 

We  entered  the  valley  of  the  Wiesent,  one  of  the  far-off 
tributaries  of  the  Rhine.  The  afternoon  was  intensely  hot, 
but  the  sky  was  clear  and  soft,  and  the  landscape  could  not 
have  exhibited  more  ravishing  effects  of  light  and  shade. 
Broad  and  rich  at  first,  bordered  with  low  hills,  the  valley 
gradually  became  deeper  and  narrower,  without  losing  its 
fair,  cultivated  beauty.  We  passed  around  the  foot  of  the 
Walpurgisberg,  on  the  summit  of  which  is  a  chapel,  whereto 
a  pilgrunage  in  hoaor  of  St.  Walpurgis  is  made  on  the  first 
of  May.     Further  up  the  valley,  on  the  opposite  side,  is  the 


290  AT  BOMB  AlTD  ABBOAD. 

VexirJcapeUe  (the  Chapel  of  Annoyance) ;  so  called,  I  pre- 
Bume,  because  you  have  it  in  view  during  a  day's  walk 
Its  situation  is  superb,  on  the  very  crest  of  a  wooded  monn> 
tain.  Peasant-women,  with  gay  red  cloths  on  their  heads, 
brightened  the  fields,  but  the  abundance  of  beggars  showed 
that  we  were  in  Bavaria. 

At  the  little  town  of  Ebermannstadt  two  young  ladies 
joined  us.  They  wore  round  hats,  much  jewelry,  and 
expansive  crinolines,  which  they  carefully  gathered  up 
under  their  arms  before  taking  their  seats,  thereby  avoiding 
the  usual  embarrassment.  They  saluted  me  with  great 
cordiality,  apologizing  for  the  amplitude  of  dress  which 
obliged  me  to  shift  my  seat.  I  was  a  little  disappointed, 
however,  to  find  that  they  spoke  the  broadest  patois^  which 
properly  requires  the  peasant  costume  to  make  it  attractive. 
The  distance  between  their  speech  and  their  dress  was  too 
great.  "  Gdty  Hans^  '«  geht  a  hissel  barsch  '*uff'''*  said 
one  of  them  to  the  postillion — which  is  as  if  an  American 
girl  should  say  to  the  stage-driver,  "  Look  here,  you  Jack, 
it's  a  sort  o'  goin'  up-hill,  ain't  it  ?" 

The  valley  now  became  quite  narrow,  and  presently  I 
saw,  by  the  huge  masses  of  gray  rock  and  the  shattered 
tower  of  Neideck,  that  we  were  approaching  Streitberg. 
This  place  is  the  portal  of  the  Franconian  Switzerland. 
Situated  at  the  last  turn  of  the  Wiesent  valley — or  rathei 
at  the  corner  where  it  ceases  to  be  a  gorge  and  becomes 
a  valley — ^the  village  nestles  at  the  base  of  a  group  of  huge, 
splintered,  overhanging  rocks,  among  which  still  hang  the 
ruins  of  its  feudal  castle.  Opposite,  on  the  very  summit 
of  a  similar  group,  is  the  ruin  of  Niedeck.    The  names  of 


▲  Walk,  through  the  franconian  Switzerland.   291 

the  two  places  (the  "  Mount  of  Quarrel"  and  the  "  Cornel 
of  Envy")  give  us  the  clew  to  their  history.  Streitberg, 
no  doubt,  was  at  one  time  a  very  Ebal,  or  Mount  of  Curs- 
ing— nor,  to  judge  from  the  invalid  who  accompanied  U8 
thither  to  try  the  whey-cure,  can  it  yet  have  entirely  lost 
its  character.  At  the  cure-house  (as  the  Germans  call  it) 
there  were  some  fifty  similar  individuals — sallow,  peevish, 
irritable,  unhappy  persons,  in  whose  faces  one  could  see 
vinegar  as  well  as  whey.  They  sat  croaking  to  each  other 
in  the  balmy  evening,  or  contemplated  with  rueful  feces 
the  lovely  view  down  the  valley. 

I  succeeded  in  procuring  a  bath  by  inscribing  my  name, 
residence,  and  the  precise  hour  of  bathing,  in  a  book  for 
the  inspection  of  the  physician.  I  trust  he  was  edified  by 
the  perusal.  Then,  returning  to  the  inn,  I  ordered  a  sup- 
per of  trout,  which  are  here  cheap  and  good.  They  are 
kept  in  tanks,  and,  if  you  choose,  you  may  pick  out  any 
fish  you  may  prefer.  A  tap  on  the  nose  is  supposed  to  kill 
them,  after  which  the  gall-bladder  is  removed,  and  they  are 
thrown  into  boiling  water.  In  Germany,  trout  are  never 
eaten  otherwise.  The  color  fades  in  the  process,  but  the 
flavor  of  the  fish  is  fully  retained.  A  slice  of  lemon,  bread, 
butter,  and  a  glass  of  Rhenish  wine,  are  considered  to  be 
necessary  harmonics. 

I  took  a  good  night's  sleep  before  commencmg  my  walk- 
mg-cufe.  Then,  leaving  my  travelling-bag  to  follow  with  the 
diligence,  I  set  out  encumbered  only  with  an  umbrella-cane, 
a  sketch-book,  and  a  leather  pouch,  containing  guide-book, 
map,  note-book,  and  colors.  Somewhat  doubtful  as  to  the 
result,  but  courageous,  I  began  a  slow,  steady  march  a| 


292  AT   HOMK   AXD   ABBOAD. 

the  valley.  Many  years  had  passed  since  I  had  undertaken 
a  journey  on  foot,  and  as  I  recalled  old  experiences  and  old 
feelings,  I  realized  that,  although  no  sense  of  enjoyment 
was  blunted,  the  fascinating  wonderment  of  youth,  which 
clothed  every  object  in  a  magical  atmosphere,  was  gone  for 
ever.  My  perception  of  Beauty  seemed  colder,  because  it 
was  more  intelligent,  more  discriminating.  But  Gain  and 
Loss,  in  the  scale  of  life,  alternately  kick  the  beam. 

The  dew  lay  thick  on  the  meadows,  and  the  peasants 
were  everywhere  at  work  shaking  out  the  hay,  so  that  the 
air  was  sweet  with  grass-odors.  Above  rae,  on  either 
side,  the  immense  gray  horns  and  towers  of  rock  rose  out 
of  the  steep  fir-woods,  clearly,  yet  not  too  sharply  defined 
against  the  warm  blue  of  the  sky.  The  Wiesent,  swift  and 
beryl-green,  winding  in  many  curves  through  the  hay -fields, 
made  a  cheerful  music  in  his  bed.  In  an  hour  I  reached 
the  picturesque  village  of  Muggendorf,  near  which  is  Rosen- 
mflller's  Cave,  celebrated  for  its  stalactitic  formations.  I 
have  little  fancy  for  subterranean  travels,  and  after  having 
seen  the  Mammoth  Cave  of  Kentucky  and  the  grottoes  of 
Crete,  I  felt  no  inclination  to  visit  more  than  one  of  the 
Franconian  caverns.  After  resting  half  an  hour,  and  re* 
freshing  myself  with  a  glass  of  water  and  the  conversation 
of  a  company  of  ladies  who  alighted  at  the  little  tavern,  I 
started  again,  still  feeling  tolerably  brisk. 

The  valley  now  contracted  to  a  wild  gorge,  with  almost 
perpendicular  walls  of  rock,  and  a  narrow  strip  of  meadow 
in  its  bed.  In  a  distance  of  five  miles  I  passed  two  fine  old 
mills,  which  were  the  only  evidences  of  life  and  habitatioa 
Suddenly,  on  turning  a  rocky  corner,  the  castle  of  Goss 


A  WALK  TIUIOUGH  TU£  FBANCONlAN  SWrrZEELAND.    2W' 

«reinstein  appeared  before  me,  as  if  hung  in  the  sky.  Tht 
picture  was  so  striking  that,  in  spite  of  the  intense  heat,  I 
itopped  to  sketch  it.  On  reaching  a  mill  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  I  found  there  was  no  bridge  over  the  stream, 
which  I  should  have  crossed  some  distance  back.  I  was 
sufficiently  tired,  however,  to  be  glad  of  a  good  excuse  for 
not  scaling  the  height.  Presently  I  reached  a  little  village 
in  a  nook  where  the  gorge  splits  into  three  prongs,  through 
two  of  which  wild  trout-streams  come  down  to  join  the 
Wiesent.  The  meadows  were  covered  with  pieces  of  coarse 
linen  in  the  process  of  bleaching.  Here  there  was  a  tavern 
and  a  huge  linden-tree,  and  after  my  walk  of  ten  miles  I 
considered  myself  entitled  to  shade  and  beer.  It  occurred 
to  me,  also,  that  I  might  lighten  the  journey  by  taking  the 
landlady's  son  to  carry  my  coat,  sketch-book,  etc.  This 
proved  to  be  a  good  idea. 

The  main  road  here  left  the  valley,  which  really  became 
next  to  impracticable.  We  took  a  foot-path  up  the  stream, 
through  a  wild  glen  half  filled  with  immense  fragments  that 
had  tumbled  from  the  rocky  walls  on  either  side.  The  close 
heat  was  like  that  of  an  oven,  and,  as  the  solitude  was  com- 
plete, I  gradually  loaded  ray  guide  with  one  article  of  dresi 
after  another,  imtil  my  costume  resembled  that  of  a  High- 
lander, except  that  the  kilt  was  white.  Finally,  seeing  some 
hay-makers  at  a  point  where  the  glen  made  a  sharp  turn. 
I  resumed  my  original  character ;  and  it  was  well  thai  I  did 
•o,  for  on  turning  the  corner  I  foimd  myself  in  the  village 
of  Tachersfeld,  and  in  view  of  a  multitude  of  won^«^u  whv 
were  bleaching  linen. 

I  know  of  few  surprises  in  scenery  equal  to  thi«.     I 


294  AT   HOME   AND  ABBOAD. 

looking  up  the  glen,  supposing  that  my  way  lay  straight  on 
when  three  steps  more,  and  I  found  myself  in  a  deep  trian 
gular  basin,  out  of  which  rose  three  immense  jagged  massei 
of  rock,  like  pyramids  in  ruin,  with  houses  clinging,  in  gid- 
dy recklessness,  to  their  sides !  On  a  saddle  between  two 
of  them  stands  the  Herrensitz^  or  residence  of  the  proprie- 
tary family.  A  majestic  linden,  centuries  old,  grows  at  the 
base,  and  high  over  its  crown  tower  the  weather-beaten 
spires  of  rock,  with  a  blasted  pine  on  the  summit.  The 
picture  is  grotesque  in  its  character,  which  is  an  unusual 
feature  in  scenery.  One  who  comes  up  the  glen  is  so  un- 
prepared for  it  that  it  flashes  upon  him  as  if  a  curtain  had 
been  suddenly  lifted. 

Here  I  rested  in  the  shade  until  the  mid-day  heat  was 
over.  A  Jew  and  a  young  Bavarian  lieutenant  kept  me 
company,  and  the  latter  entertained  me  with  descriptions 
of  vaiious  executions  which  he  had  seen.  We  left  at  the 
same  time,  they  for  Bayreuth  and  I  for  the  little  town  of 
Pottenstein,  at  the  head  of  the  gorge,  five  miles  further 
By  this  time,  I  confess,  the  journey  had  become  a  toil.  I 
dragged  myself  along  rather  than  walked,  and  when  a  stout 
boy  of  twelve  begged  for  a  kreiUzer,  I  bribed  him  for  twelve 
to  accompany  and  assist  me.  His  dialect  was  of  the  broad- 
est, and  I  could  sooner  have  understood  a  lecture  on  the 
Absolute  Reason  than  his  simple  peasant  gossip.  His  tongue 
was  a  very  scissors  for  clipping  oflf  the  ends  of  words.  The 
pronoun  "  ich*^  he  changed  into  "  a,"  and  very  often  used 
the  third  person  of  the  verb  instead  of  the  first.  I  man 
aged,  however,  to  learn  that  the  landlord  in  Ttlchersfeld 
was  "  fearfully  rich  :''  all  the  hay  in  the  glen  (perhaps  ter 


▲  WAI^  THBOUGB  THE  FBANCONIAN  SWITZERLAiO).    295 

tons)  belonged  to  him,  I  had  ah-eady  suspected  as  luncb 
for  the  landlord  took  pains  to  tell  us  about  a  wedding  trip 
he  had  just  made  to  the  old  monastery  of  Banz,  a  day's 
journey  distant.  "  It  cost  me  as  much  as  forty  florins,* 
laid  he,  "  but  then  we  travelled  second-class.  To  my 
thinking  it's  not  half  so  pleasant  as  third-class,  but  then  T 
wanted  to  be  nohle  for  once." 

For  an  hour  and  a  half  we  walked  through  a  deep,  wind- 
ing glen,  where  there  was  barely  a  little  room  here  and 
there  for  a  hay  or  barley  field.  On  the  right  hand  were 
tall  forests  of  fir  and  pine ;  on  the  left,  abrupt  stony 
hills,  capped  with  hiige  irregular  bastions  of  Jura  limestone. 
Gradually  the  rocks  appear  on  the  right  and  push  away 
the  woods  ;  the  stream  is  squeezed  between  a  double  row 
of  Cyclopean  walls,  which  assume  the  wildest  and  most 
fantastic  shapes,  and  finally  threaten  to  lock  together  and 
cut  ofi*  the  path.  These  wonderful  walls  are  three  or  four 
hundred  feet  in  height — not  only  perpendicular,  but  actu- 
ally overhanging  in  many  places. 

As  I  was  8hufl3ing  along,  qiiite  exhausted,  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  two  naked  youngsters  in  a  shaded  eddy  of  the 
stream.  They  plunged  about  with  so  much  enjoyment 
that  I  was  strongly  tempted  to  join  them :  so  I  stepped 
down  to  the  bank,  and  called  out,  "  Is  the  water  cold  ?'' 
Whoop !  away  they  went,  out  of  the  water  and  under  a 
thick  bush,  leaving  only  four  legs  visible.  Presently  thes 
also  disappeared,  and  had  it  not  been  for  two  tow  shirts 
more  brown  than  white,  lying  on  the  grass,  I  might  have 
supposed  that  I  had  surprised  a  pair  of  Nixies. 

Tte  approach  to  Pottenstein  resembles  that  to  Tflcheni 


ZUfi  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

feld,  but  it  is  less  sudden  and  surprising.  It  is  wonderfully 
picturesque — the  houses  are  so  jammed  in,  here  and  there; 
among  the  huge  shapeless  limestone  monoliths,  and  the 
bits  of  meadow  and  garden  have  such  a  greenness  and 
brightness  contrasted  with  the  chaos  which  incloses  them. 
I  found  ray  way  to  the  post-inn,  and  straightway  dropped 
into  one  of  the  awkward  carved  wooden  chairs  (the  pattern 
of  five  centuries  ago)  in  the  guests'  room,  with  a  feeling 
of  infinite  gratitude.  The  landlord  brought  me  a  mug  of 
beer,  with  black  bread  and  a  handful  of  salt  on  the  plate. 
I  remembered  the  types  of  hospitality  in  the  Orient,  and 
partook  of  the  hallowed  symbols.  Then  came  consecutive 
ablutions  of  cold  water  and  brandy ;  after  which  I  felt 
sufficiently  refreshed  to  order  trout  for  supper.  But  what- 
ever of  interest  the  little  town  may  have  contained,  nothing 
oould  tempt  me  to  walk  another  step  that  day. 

In  the  morning  I  engaged  a  man  as  guide  and  sack- 
bearer,  and  set  out  by  six  o'clock  for  Rabenstein  (the 
Raven-rock)  and  its  famous  cavern.  We  first  climbed  out 
of  the  chasm  of  Pottenstein,  which  was  filled  with  a  hot, 
silvery  mist,  and  struck  northward  over  high,  rolling  laiid, 
from  which  we  could  now  and  then  look  down  into  the 
gorges  of  the  Ptlttlach  and  Eschbach.  There  was  not  a 
breath  of  air  stirring,  and  even  at  that  early  hour  the  heat 
was  intense.  I  would  have  stopped  occaaionally  to  rest, 
but  the  guide  pushed  ahead,  saying :  "  We  must  get  on 
before  the  day  is  hot."  The  country  was  bald  and  mono 
tonous,  but  the  prospect  of  reaching  Rabenstein  in  two 
hours  enabled  me  to  hold  out  Finally  the  little  foot-path 
we  had  been  following  turned  into  a  wood,  whence,  after  a 


A  WALK  THEOUGH  THE  FEANCON14N  SWITZEEi:.Ain).  297 

hundred  paces,  it  suddenly  emerged  upon  tlie  brink  of  a 
deep,  rocky  basin,  resembling  the  crater  of  a  volcano.  It 
was  about  four  hundred  feet  deep,  with  a  narrow  split  al 
either  end,  through  which  the  Eschbach  stream  entered 
and  departed.  The  walls  were  composed  of  enormous 
overhanging  masses  of  rock,  which  rested  on  natural  archea 
or  regular  jambs,  like  those  of  Egyptian  gateways,  while 
the  bed  was  of  the  greenest  turf,  with  a  slip  of  the  blue 
sky  mirrored  in  the  centre,  as  if  one  were  looking  upon  a 
lower  heaven  through  a  crack  in  the  earth.  Opposite,  on 
the  very  outer  edge  of  the  rock,  sat  the  castle  of  Raben- 
Btein,  and  the  houses  of  the  village  behind  it  seemed  to  be 
crowding  on  toward  the  brink,  as  if  anxious  which  should 
be  first  to  look  down. 

Into  this  basin  led  the  path — a  toilsome  descent,  but  at 
the  bottom  we  found  a  mill  which  was  also  a  tavern,  and 
bathed  our  tongues  in  some  cool  but  very  bitter  and  dis- 
agreeable beer.  "  Sophia's  Cave,"  the  finest  grotto  in  the 
Franconian  Switzerland,  is  a  little  further  up  the  gorge ; 
and  the  haymakers  near  the  mill,  on  seeing  me,  shouted  up 
to  the  cave-keeper  in  the  village  over  their  heads  to  get  his 
torches  ready.  The  rocks  on  either  side  exhibit  the  most 
wild  and  wonderful  forms.  In  one  place  a  fragment,  shaped 
very  much  like  a  doll,  but  from  eighty  to  a  hundred  feet 
in  height,  has  slipped  down  from  above,  and  fallen  out, 
resting  only  its  head  against  the  perpendicular  wall.  On 
approaching  the  cave,  the  rocky  wall  on  which  the  (;astl€ 
of  Rabensteiii  stands  projects  far  over  its  base,  and  a  little 
white  chapel  sits  on  the  summit.  The  entrance  is  a  verj 
Droad,  low  arch,  r-^sting  on  natural  pillars. 


298  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

You  first  penetrate  for  a  hundred  feet  or  more  by  a 
spacious  vaulted  avenue :  then  the  rock  contracts,  and  a 
narrow  passage,  closed  by  double  doors,  leads  to  the  sub- 
terranean halls.  Here  you  find  yourself  near  the  top  of  an 
immense  chamber,  hung  with  stalactites  and  tinkling  with 
the  sound  of  water  dropping  from  their  points.  A  wooden 
8»aircase,  protected  by  an  iron  railing,  leads  around  the 
sides  to  the  bottom,  giving  views  of  some  curious  forma- 
tions— watei  falls,  statues,  a  papal  tiara,  the  intestines  of 
cattle — and  the  blunt  pillars  of  the  stalagmites,  gi'owing 
up  by  hundreds  from  every  corner  or  shelf  of  rock. 

The  most  remarkable  feature  of  the  cave,  however — as 
of  all  the  Franconian  grottoes — is  the  abundance  of  fosdl 
remains  in  every  pai't  of  it.  The  attention  of  geologists 
was  first  directed  to  these  extraordinary  deposits  by  the 
naturalist  RosenniflUer,  who  explored  and  described  them  ; 
but  they  were  afterward  better  known  through  the  writ- 
ings of  Cuvier  and  Humboldt.  Here,  imbedded  in  the 
inoiusted  stone,  lie  the  skulls  of  bears  and  hyenas,  the 
antiers  of  deer,  elk,  and  antelopes,  and  the  jaw-bones  of 
mammoths.  You  find  them  in  the  farthest  recesses  of  the 
cave,  and  the  rock  seems  to  be  actually  a  conglomerate  of 
them.  Yet  no  entire  skeleton  of  any  animal,  I  was  in- 
formed, has  been  found.  Under  the  visibte  layers  are  other 
deeper  layers  of  the  same  remains.  How  were  all  these 
beasts  assembled  here?  What  overwhelming  fear  oi  aeces 
aity  drove  together  the  lion  and  the  stag,  the  antelope  an 
the  hyena?  and  what  convulsion,  hundreds  of  centuries  ago, 
buried  them  so  deep  ?  There  is  some  grand  mystery  of  Crea  ^ 
tion  hidden  in  this  sparry  sepulchre  of  pre-adaraite  beasts. 


▲  WALK  THKOUGB  THE  FEANCONIA^  SWrTZKELAND.    299 

We  passed  on  into  the  second  and  third  chamLem, 
where  the  stalactites  assume  other  and  more  unusual  forms, 
such  as  curtains,  chandeliers,  falling  fringes  of  lily-leaves, 
and  embroidered  drapery,  all  of  which  are  thin,  transpareut, 
inowy-white,  and  give  forth  a  clear,  bell-like  tone  when 
struck.  The  cave  is  curious  and  beautiful  rather  than 
grand.  The  guide  informed  me  that  I  had  penetrated 
two  thousand  feet  from  the  entrance,  but  this  I  could  not 
believe.  Eight  hundred  feet  would  be  nearer  the  mark.  On 
returning,  the  first  effect  of  daylight  on  the  outer  arches 
of  the  cavern  transmuted  them  into  golden  glass,  and  the 
wild  landscape  of  the  gorge  was  covered  with  a  layer  of 
crystal  fire  so  dazzling  that  I  could  scarcely  look  upon  it. 

By  this  time  it  was  ten  o'clock,  and  the  heat  increasing 
every  moment :  it  was  90**  in  the  shade.  An  hour's  walk 
over  a  bare,  roasting  upland  brought  me  to  the  Wiesent 
valley  and  the  town  of  Waischenfeld,  which  I  reached  in 
a  state  of  complete  exhaustion.  Here,  however,  there  was 
an  omnibus  to  Bayreuth.  My  guide  and  baggage-bearer 
was  an  old  fellow  of  sixty,  who  had  WMted  upon  me  the 
evening  before  in  Pottenstein,  and  besides  had  fallen  in  the 
street  and  broken  his  pipe  while  going  to  the  baker's  for 
my  breakfast :  so  I  gave  him  a  florin  and  a  half  (60  cents). 
But  I  was  hardly  prepared  for  the  outburst  which  followed ; 
"  Thank  you,  and  Heaven  reward  you,  and  God  return  it  to 
you,  and  Our  Dear  Lady  take  care  of  you !  Oh,  but  I  vrill 
pray  ever  so  many  paternosters  for  you,  until  you  reach 
lome  again.  Oh,  that  you  may  get  back  safely !  Oh,  that 
you  may  have  long  life  !  Oh,  that  yon  may  be  inch  .  Oh, 
that  you  may  keep  your  health !     Oh,  that  I  might  go  on 


300  AT   HUME   AND    ABROAD. 

with  you,  and  never  stop  I  But  you're  a  noble  lordship  i 
It  isn't  me  that  likes  vulgar  people :  I  won't  have  nothing 
to  do  with  'em :  it's  the  fine,  splendid  gentleman  like  your- 
self that  it  does  me  good  to  be  with  !"  With  that  he  took 
my  hand,  and,  bending  over,  kissed  me  just  under  the  right 
eye  before  I  knew  what  he  was  after.  He  then  left  ;  and 
when  I  came  to  pay  my  bill  I  found  that  he  had  ordered 
dinner  and  beer  at  my  expense  ! 

I  waited  at  Waischenfeld  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  and 
then  took  the  post  for  Bayreuth.  The  upper  valley  of  the 
Wiesent  exhibits  some  remarkable  rock-forms;  but  they 
become  less  and  less  frequent,  the  valley  widens,  and  finally, 
at  the  village  of  Blankenstein,  the  characteristics  of  the 
Franconian  Switzerland,  in  this  direction,  disappear.  The 
soil,  however,  is  much  richer,  and  the  crops  were  wonder- 
fully luxuriant.  We  passed  a  solitary  chapel  by  the  road- 
side, renowned  as  a  place  of  pilgrimage.  "  The  people  call 
it  die  Kdbel^''  said  my  fellow-passenger,  a  Bayreuther. 
"  If  you  were  to  say  KapeUe  [chapel],  they  wouldn't  know 
what  you  meant."  The  votive  offerings  placed  there  are 
immediately  stolen ;  the  altar-ornaments  are  stolen ;  even 
the  bell  is  stolen  from  the  tower. 

At  last  the  Fichtelgebirge  (Fir-Mountains) — the  central 
chain  of  Franconia — came  in  sight,  and  the  road  began  to 
descend  toward  the  valley  of  Bayreuth.  My  fellow-pas 
senger  proposed  that  we  should  alight  at  the  commencement 
of  a  park  called  the  Phantasie,  belonging  to  Duke  Alexan- 
der of  Wtirtemberg,  and  he  would  conduct  me  through  to 
the  other  end,  where  the  omnibus  would  wait  for  us.  We 
entered  a  charming  park,  every  foot  of  which  betrayed  the 


A  WALK.  THROUGH  THE  FBANCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.     301 

ruost  exquisite  taste  and  the  most  tender  care.  Nowhere 
could  be  found  smoother  gravel,  greener  turf,  brigliter  flow- 
ers, or  a  more  artistic  disposition  of  trees,  fountains,  statues, 
and  flower-beds.  Presently  we  reached  a  stately  Italian 
palace  of  yellow  stone,  with  a  level,  blossomy  terrace  in 
front,  overhanging  a  deep  valley,  which  seemed  to  have  been 
brought  bodily  from  Switzerland.  In  the  bottom  was  a 
lake,  bordered  by  the  greenest  meadows ;  the  opposite  hiU 
was  wooded  with  dark  firs,  and  every  house  which  could 
be  seen  was  Swiss  in  its  form.  Two  men  were  on  the  ter- 
race, looking  over  the  heavy  stone  balustrade — one  of  them 
a  very  stout,  strong  figure,  with  a  massive  gray  beard. 
"Ah,"  said  my  companion,  "there  is  the  Duke  himself!" 
His  Highness,  seeing  us,  returned  our  salutes  very  politely, 
and  then  slid  behind  a  bush.  "  He  always  does  that,"  said 
the  Bayreuther,  "  when  strangers  come :  he  goes  away  lest 
they  should  be  embarrassed,  and  not  see  as  much  as  they 
wish."  This  is  really  the  extreme  of  politeness.  The  Duke's 
wife  was  the  Piincess  Marie  d'Orleans,  that  gifted  daughter 
of  I.ouis  Philippe,  whose  statue  of  Joan  of  Arc  is  in  the 
Versailles  Gallery.  She  died,  however,  not  in  consequence 
of  excessive  devotion  to  her  art,  as  is  often  stated,  but  from 
a  cold  contracted  after  her  first  confinement.  Duke  Alex 
nder  has  never  married  again. 

The  Phantasie  struck  me  as  being  one  of  the  most  exqui- 
site  specimens  of  landscape  gardening  in  Germany.  It  i» 
an  illustration  of  what  may  be  accomplished  by  simply 
assisting  nature — by  following  her  suggestions  rather  than 
forcing  her  to  assume  a  new  character. 

As  we  approached  Bayreuth  my  friend  said :  "  Now  1 


302  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

will  try  and  show  you  the  grave  of  Jean  Paul  (Richter).* 
But  the  foliage  in  the  cemetery  was  too  thick,  and  I  onlj 
thought  I  saw  the  top  of  a  black  marble  tombstone.  "  ] 
remember  him  very  well,"  he  continued,  "  When  I  was  a 
boy  I  often  saw  him  on  his  way  to  Fiau  RoUwenzel's.  He 
wore  a  wide  coat,  and  always  had  a  bottle  of  wine  in  hia 
pocket.  One  hand  he  held  behind  him,  and  carried  a  stick 
in  the  other.  Sometimes  he  would  stop  and  take  a  drink 
of  wine.  I  remember  his  funeral,  which  took  place  by 
torch-light.  He  was  a  most  beautiful  corpse !  His  widow 
gave  me  one  of  his  vests,  a  white  one,  with  embroidery 
upon  it,  and  I  was  fool  enough  to  let  it  go  out  of  my  hands  \ 
I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  that.  But  then,  nobody  iri 
3ayreuth  thought  he  wets  a  great  man^'*  And  this  was 
said  of  Jean  Paul,  the  greatest  German  humorist  I  There 
is  a  melancholy  moral  in  the  remark. 

Bayreuth  is  a  stately  town  for  its  size  (the  population  is 
Bome  18,000) ;  the  streets  are  broad,  the  houses  large  and 
massive  ;  but  over  all  there  is  an  air  of  departed  grandeur 
like  Ferrara,  Ravenna,  and  the  other  deserted  Italian  capi- 
tals. In  the  former  century  it  had  an  ostentatious  court — 
its  Margraves,  no  doubt,  considered  themselves  Qrands 
Monarques  in  miniature,  and  surrounded  themselves  with 
pompous  ceremonial — ^but  all  this  is  over.  Now  and  then 
a  curious  stranger  arrives,  and  he  passes  with  scarce  a 
glance  the  palace  of  the  old  rulers  on  his  way  to  the  statue 
of  the  grand  plebeian,  Jean  Paul  Friedrich  Richter.  At 
least  the  latter  was  the  only  object  in  the  city  which  I  cared 
to  see.  It  is  of  bronze,  colossal,  and  from  Schwanthaler'j 
mo.lel.    The  poet  is  represented  as  leaning  against  a  tree^ 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FRAXCONIAX  "sWITZERLANB.     308 

with  a  pencil  in  one  hand  and  a  note-book  in  the  other, 
while  his  head  is  slightly  lifted,  as  if  with  the  inspiration  of 
»  new  idea.     But  it  is  by  no  means  a  great  work. 

In  spite  of  the  heat  (92°  in  the  shade)  I  walked  out  to 
the  Hermitage,  a  summer  resort  of  the  Margraves,  about 
four  miles  from  the  city.  The  road  thither  is  an  unbroket 
avenue  of  magnificent  lindens,  from  which,  as  the  ground 
gradually  rises,  you  have  wide  views  of  the  surroimding 
country.  On  the  summit  of  the  ridge  stands  the  femous 
coffee-house,  formerly  kept  by  Frau  Rollwenzel.  On  a 
tablet  beside  the  door  are  the  words :  "  Sier  dichtete  Jean 
Pavl.'''*  (Here  Jean  Paul  wrote  his  works.)  He  had  a 
garret  room  in  the  little  low  house,  and  it  was  his  habit  for 
many  years  to  walk  out  from  Bayreuth  in  the  morning,  and 
write  there  all  day,  returning  in  the  evening.  I  climbed 
the  steep,  dark  stair-case,  and  entered  his  room,  a  narrow 
den,  with  two  windows  looking  toward  the  Fichtelgebirge. 
Every  thing  is  kept  in  precisely  the  same  condition  as  dur- 
ing his  life.  There  is  the  same  old  calico  sofa,  the  same 
deal  table  and  rude  book-shelf  which  he  used.  In  the  table- 
drawer  is  one  of  his  manuscript  works :  "  Remarks  About 
Us  Fools.''  The  custodian  informed  me  that  he  had  been 
offered  300  florins  ($120)  for  it  by  an  Englishman.  Over 
the  sofa  hangs  a  portrait  of  Jean  Paul,  under  which  is  a 
smaller  one  of  Frau  Rollwenzel. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  more  I  reached  the  Hermitage, 
which  I  found  entirely  deserted.  Laborers  and  loafers  alike 
had  fled  from  the  unusual  heat.  In  the  deep  avenues  of  the 
Dark,  where  the  sunshine,  passing  tli rough  triple  layers  of 
beech-leaves,  took  the  hue  of  dark-green  glass,  I  found  t 


S04  Ar  HOME  AND   ABHOAl). 

grateful  coolness ;  but  the  fountains,  the  sand-stone  dra 
gons,  and  rococo  flower-beds  in  front  of  a  semicircular  tem- 
ple of  rough  mosaic,  dedicated  to  the  Sun,  basked  in  an  in- 
tense Persian  heat.  The  god  really  had  visited  his  altar. 
Here  there  are  very  remarkable  jewx  d''eau  ;  but  I  confess, 
with  humiliation,  that  I  had  not  sufficient  energy  remaining 
to  find  the  person  who  had  them  in  charge,  and  thus  did 
not  see  their  performance.  The  water,  I  was  told,  comes 
forth  from  all  sorts  of  unexpected  places  ;  forms  suns, 
moons,  and  stars  in  the  air ;  spouts  from  the  trees ;  spirts 
out  of  the  bushes ;  and  so  envelops  the  beholder  in  a  foun- 
tain-chaos that  he  is  lucky  if  he  escapes  without  a  drench- 
ing. There  is  one  seat  in  particular  which  the  stranger  is 
directed  to  take,  in  order  to  obtain  the  best  view.  Woe 
to  him  if  he  obey !  All  the  trees  and  rocks  around  fling 
their  streams  upon  him. 

The  Hermitage  is  a  good  specimen  of  what  is  called  in 
Germany  th-e  Zopf  (Queue)  style — the  quintessence  of  for- 
mality. Its  position,  on  the  opposite  side  of,  and  equidis- 
tant from,  Bayreuth,  challenges  a  comparison  with  the 
Phantasie,  and  the  difference  is  just  this :  in  the  Phantasie 
one  sees  that  Nature  is  beloved — in  the  Hermitage,  that  she 
is  patronized  with  lofty  consideration. 

Returning  to  Bayreuth,  I  took  the  railroad  to  a  little 
town  called  Markt-Schorgast,  in  order  to  enter  the  Fichtel- 
gebirge  from  the  most  approved  point.  Here  I  tried  tc 
procure  a  man  to  carry  my  sack  to  Berneck,  some  three 
miles  distant,  but  only  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  very  small 
boy.  "  Really,"  said  I,  when  the  mite  made  his  ajipear- 
ance,  "  he  can  never  carry  it."     "  Let  me  see,"  said  tho 


A  WALK  THUOUan  THE  FRAXnONlAN  SWITZERLAND.     304 

Btation-master,  liftmg  the  sack;  "^'a  woAZ,  that's  nothing 
for  him.  He  could  run  with  it  I'»  True  enough,  the  boy 
put  it  into  a  basket,  shouldered  it,  and  trotted  off  as  brisk 
^  a  grasshopper.  The  load  was  larger  than  himself,  and  J 
talked  after  him  with  a  sense  of  shame.  '  There  was  I,  a 
oroad -shouldered  giant  in  comparison,  puffing,  and  sweating 
and  groaning,  finding,  even  my  umbrella  troublesome,  and 
the  poor  little  pigmy  at  my  side  keeping  up  a  lively  quick- 
step with  his  bare  feet  on  the  hot  road. 

We  crossed  a  burning  hill  into  a  broad,  shallow  valley, 
with  a  village  called  Wasserknoten  (the  water-knots).  Be- 
yond this  valley  contracted  into  a  glen,  shaded  with  dark 
fir-woods,  which  overhung  slopes  of  velvet  rather  than 
grass,  they  wore  so  even  and  lustrous  a  green.  After  a 
while  the  ruins  of  Hohen-berneck  (High  Bear's  Corner), 
consisting  of  one  square  tower,  eighty  feet  high,  appeared 
on  the  crest  of  the  hill.  The  town  is  squeezed  into  the  bot- 
tom of  the  glen,  which  is  only  wide  enough  for  a  single 
street,  more  than  a  mile  long.  I  was  so  thoroughly  fatigued 
when  I  reached  the  post-inn  at  the  farther  end  of  the  place 
that  I  gave  up  all  thoughts  of  going  further. 

The  landlord  made  much  of  me  on  learning  that  I  was  an 
American.  He  not  only  regaled  me  with  beer,  but  took  me 
to  see  another  Bernecker,  who  had  been  in  England,  India, 
nJ  China.  Several  "  cwre-guests"  joined  the  company,  and 
was  obliged  to  give  them  a  history  of  the  Southern  Rebel 
ion,  which  was  no  easy  matter,  as  so  much  incidental  expla* 
nation  was  necessary.  In  Bemeck  there  is  a  frequented 
whey-cure.  In  fact,  there  are  few  towns  in  G-^rraany  with 
out   a   "cure"   of  some   kind.     Whey-cures,  water-careSj 


306  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

grape-cures,  liunger-cnres,  cider-cures,  pine- needle-cares, 
salt-cures,  and  herb-cures  flourish  in  active  rivalry.  In 
addition  to  all  these  the  beer-cure  is  universally  employed. 

I  had  engaged  a  man  to  be  ready  in  the  morning  to 
accompany  me  to  Bischofsgrtln,  ten  miles  further ;  but  the 
man  turned  out  to  be  an  old  woman.  However,  it  made 
little  difference,  as  she  walked  quite  as  fast  with  her  load  as 
I  was  willing  to  walk  without  one.  The  same  temperature 
continued ;  there  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  and  a  thin, 
silvery  shimmer  of  heat  in  the  air  and  over  the  landscape. 
We  followed  the  course  of  the  young  Main,  at  first  through 
a  wide,  charming  valley,  whose  meadows  of  grass  and  flow 
ers  fairly  blazed  in  the  sunshine,  while  on  either  hand  tow- 
ered the  dark  blue-green  forests  of  fir.  Shepherds  with 
their  flocks  were  on  the  slopes,  and  the  little  goose-girls 
drove  their  feathered  herds  along  the  road.  One  of  them 
drew  a  wagon  in  which  a  goose  and  a  young  child  were 
hitting  cozily  together.  The  cuckoo  sang  in  all  the  woods, 
and  no  feature  of  life  failed  which  the  landscape  suggested, 
unless  it  were  the  Tyrolean  yodel.  After  an  hour's  hard 
walking  the  valley  became  a  steep  gorge,  up  which  the  road 
wound  through  continuous  forests. 

The  scenery  was  now  thoroughly  Swiss  in  its  character, 
and  charmed  me  almost  to  forgetfulness  of  my  weak  and 
bruised  knees.  Still,  I  was  heartily  rejoiced  when  we 
reached  Bischofsgrtln  (Bishop's-green),  a  village  at  the  base 
of  the  Ochsenkopf,  one  of  the  highest  summits  of  the  Fich 
telgebirge.  Here  a  rampant  golden-lion  hung  out,  the  wel- 
come sigii  of  food  and  rest.  Before  it  stood  a  carriage 
which   had    l>rought  a  gentleman  and  three  ladies— very 


A  WALK  THKOUGH  THE  FKANCONIAN  SWITZEELAND.     30^ 

genial  and  friendly  persons,  although  they  spoke  a  most 
decided  patois.  They  had  just  ordered  dinner,  and  the 
huge  stove  at  one  end  of  the  guests*  room  sent  out  a  terri 
ble  heat.  The  landlord  was  a  slow,  peaceful  old  fellow, 
with  that  meek  air  which  comes  from  conjugal  subjugation. 
But  his  wife  was  a  mixture  of  thunder,  lightning,  and  hail 
The  first  thing  she  did  was  to  snatch  a  pair  of  red  worsted 
slippers  from  a  shelf;  then  she  rubbed  her  bare  feet  against 
the  edge  of  a  chair  to  scrape  off  the  sand,  and,  sitting  down, 
pulled  up  her  dress  so  as  to  show  the  greater  part  of  a  pair 
of  very  solid  legs,  and  put  on  the  slippers.  "  There !"  said 
she,  stamping  until  the  tables  rattled,  "now  comes  my 
work.  It's  me  that  has  it  to  do.  Oh  yes  1  so  many  at  once, 
and  nothing  in  the  house.  Man !  and  thou  standest  there, 
stock-still.  Ach !  here,  thou  Barbel  I  See  there !  \^3ang 
goes  the  kitchen  door,]  It's  a  cursed  life!  [Bang  the 
other  door.]  Ach  I  HaS!  Ho,  there  I"  she  shouted  from 
the  street. 

Just  then  came  a  hay- wagon  from  Bemeck,  with  thirteen 
additional  guests.  The  thunders  again  broke  heavily,  and 
for  half  an  hour  rolled  back  and  forth,  from  kitchen  to  sta- 
ble, and  from  stable  to  kitchen,  \vithout  intermission.  The* 
old  peasants,  with  their  heer-seidls  before  them,  winked  at 
each  other  and  laughed.  I  was  getting  hungry,  but  scarcely 
dared  to  ask  for  dinner.  Finally,  however,  I  appealed  to 
the  meek  landlord.  "  Be  so  good  as  to  wait  a  little,"  he 
whispered  ;  "  it  will  come  after  a  while."  Presently  his  son 
same  in  with  a  newspaper,  sajang,  "Mammy,  there's  t' 
Ziting  (Zeitung)."  "  Get  out  o'  my  way  !"  she  yelled, 
"  .7a,  JOy  I  should  read  t'  paper,  shouldn't  I  ?    Ha  1  Ho, 


308  AT   HOUB  AND   ABBOAD. 

there  1  Man!  Barbel!"  and  the  storm  broke  out  afresh. 
I  wish  it  were  possible  to  translate  the  coarse,  grotesque 
dialect  of  this  region — which  is  to  pure  German  what  Irish 
is  to  English,  and  with  as  characteristic  a  flavor — ^but  1 
now  not  how  it  could  be  done. 

Not  quite  so  difficult  would  be  the  translation  of  an  aris- 
uocratic  poem,  written  in  the  Fremdenhuch^  two  days  before, 
by  a  sentimental  baron.  It  might  very  well  compare  with 
Pope's  "  Lines  by  a  Person  of  Quality."  But  no ;  we  have 
an  ample  supply  of  such  stuff  in  our  own  language,  and  I 
will  spare  my  readers.  Bischofsgrfln  is  noted  for  its  manu- 
facture of  bottles  and  beads  for  rosaries.  There  is  a  glass 
furnace  here  which  has  been  in  steady  operation  for  eight 
hundred  years.  I  doubt  whether  anything  about  it  has 
changed  very  much  in  that  time.  I  peeped  into  it,  and  saw 
the  men  making  bottles  of  a  coarse  texture  and  pale  green- 
ish color,  but  the  mouths  of  the  furnaces,  disclosing  pits  of 
white  heat,  speedily  drove  me  away.  Although  the  village 
is  at  least  eighteen  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  there  was 
no  perceptible  diminution  of  the  heat. 

The  men  were  all  in  the  hay-fields,  and  I  was  obliged  to 
take  a  madel  (maiden),  as  the  landlord  called  her — a  woman 
of  fifty,  with  grown-up  children.  As  the  last  thunders  of 
the  landlady  of  the  Lion  died  behind  us,  the  "  maiden"  said, 
*' Ach !  my  daughter  can't  stand  it  much  longer.  She's  been 
here,  in  service,  these  five  years ;  and  it's  worse  and  worse. 
The  landlady's  a  good  woman  when  she  don't  drink,  but 
drink  she  does,  and  pretty  much  all  the  time.  She's  from 
Sohonbruim :  she  was  a  mill-daughter^  and  her  husband  a 
tavertison,  from  the  same  place.     It  isn't  good  when  9 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FRANCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.    309 

woman  drinks  schnapps,  except  at  weddings  and  funerals  j 
and  as  for  wine,  we  poor  people  can't  think  o'  that  I" 

It  was  near  three  o'clock,  and  we  had  twelve  miles 
through  the  mountains  to  Wuusiedel.  Our  road  led  through 
a  valley  between  the  Schneeberg  and  the  Ochsenkopf,  both 
of  which  mountains  were  in  full  view,  crowned  with  dark 
firs  to  their  very  summits.  I  confess  I  was  disappointed  in 
the  scenery.  The  valley  is  so  elevated  that  the  mountains 
rise  scarcely  twelve  hundred  feet  above  it ;  the  slopes  are 
gradual,  and  not  remarkable  for  grace  ;  and  the  bold  rock- 
formations  are  wanting.  Coming  up  the  Main-glen  from 
Berneck,  the  lack  of  these  features  was  atoned  for  by  the 
wonderful  beauty  of  the  turf.  Every  landscape  seemed  to 
be  new-carpeted,  and  with  such  care  that  the  turf  was 
turned  under  and  tacked  down  along  the  edges  of  the 
brooks,  leaving  no  bare  corner  anywhere.  If  the  sunshine 
had  been  actually  woven  into  its  texture  it  could  not  have 
been  brighter.  The  fir-woods  had  a  bluish-green  hue,  pur- 
ple in  the  shadows.  But  on  the  upper  meadows  over  which 
I  now  passed  the  grass  was  in  blossom,  whence  they  took 
a  brownish  tinge,  and  there  were  many  cleared  spots  which 
still  looked  ragged  and  naked. 

We  soon  entered  the  forest  at  the  foot  of  the  Ochsenkopf, 
and  walked  for  nearly  an  hour  under  the  immense  trees. 
The  ground  was  carpeted  with  short  whortleberry-bushes, 
growing  so  thickly  that  no  other  plant  was  to  be  seen. 
Beyond  this  wood  lay  a  rough,  mossy  valley,  which  is  one 
of  the  water-sheds  between  the  Black  Sea  and  the  German 
Ocean.  The  fountains  of  the  Main  and  the  Nab  are  within 
Minie  rifle-«hot  of  each  other.     Here  the  path  turned  to  th< 


810  AT    UOME    ANI>    ABROAD. 

left,  leading  directly  up  the  side  of  the  mountain.  In  tlifi 
intense  heat,  and  with  my  shaky  joittts,  the  ascent  was  a 
terrible  toil.  Up,  and  up  we  went,  and  still  up,  until  an 
open  patch  of  emerald  pasture,  with  a  chalet  in  the  centre, 
showed  that  the  summit  was  reached.  A  spring  of  icy  crys 
tal  bubbled  up  in  the  grass,  and  I  was  kneeling  to  drink, 
when  a  smiling  hausfrau  came  out  with  a  glass  goblet.  I 
returned  it,  with  a  piece  of  money,  after  drinking.  "What 
is  that  ?"  said  she.  "  No,  no ;  water  must  not  be  paid  for !" 
and  handed  it  back.  "Well,"  said  I,  giving  it  to  her  flaxen- 
headed  boy,  "it  is  not  meant  as  pay,  but  as  a  present  for 
this  youngster."  "God  protect  you  on  your  journey !"  was 
her  hearty  farewell. 

The  ridge,  I  should  guess,  was  about  twenty-eight  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  sea-level.  The  descent,  I  found,  was  a 
very  serious  matter.  I  was  obliged  to  limp  down  slowly, 
with  a  crippled  step,  which  in  itself  was  no  slight  fetigue. 
When  the  feet  have  not  free  play  it  seems  to  tire  some 
unused  internal  muscle — or,  to  judge  by  my  own  sensations, 
the  very  marrow  of  the  bones.  We  had  a  tough  foot-path 
through  a  dense  forest  for  half  an  hour,  and  then  emerged 
upon  a  slanting  meadow,  whence  there  was  a  lovely  view 
of  the  country  to  the  east  of  the  Fichtelgebirge,  with  Wun- 
siedel  away  in  the  distance,  a  bright  island-spot  in  the  sea 
of  dark-green  firs.  Down  on  the  right  was  a  broad,  rich 
valley,  in  which  ponds  of  water  shone  clear  and  blue ;  vil- 
lages dotted  the  cultivated  slopes,  and  the  wooded  heights 
of  the  Luisenburg  and  the  Kosseine  rose  beyond,  Her« 
I  began  to  find  again  the  scenery  of  Richter's  works,  which 
had  r.ruck  me  so  forcibly  in  the  vicinity  of  Bayreuth. 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FEANCONIAN  SWITZEBLAND.     31) 

By  the  time  we  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the  mountaic 
and  left  the  forest  behind  us,  I  had  almost  touched  the 
limits  of  my  endurance.  But  there  was  still  a  good  three 
miles  before  us.  The  "  maiden,"  with  twenty  pounds  on 
her  back,  marched  along  bravely ;  I  followed,  a  disabled 
veteran,  halting  every  now  and  then  to  rest  and  recruit. 
All  things  must  have  an  end,  and  it  is  not  every  day's  jour- 
ney that  winds  up  with  a  comfortable  inn.  I  am  not  sure 
but  that  the  luxury  of  the  consecutive  bath,  beef-steak, 
and  bed,  which  I  enjoyed,  compensated  for  all  the  pain 
endured. 

A  shower  the  next  morning  freshened  the  air,  diminished 
the  heat,  and  put  some  little  elasticity  into  my  bruised  muscles. 
It  was  a  gala  day  for  Wunsiedel.  The  Turners  of  the  place, 
who  had  formed  themselves  into  a  fire-company,  performed 
in  the  market-square,  with  engines,  ladders,  hose,  etc., 
complete.  Early  in  the  morning  the  Turners  of  Hof  and 
their  female  friends  arrived  in  six  great  hay-wagons,  covered 
with  arches  of  birch  boughs  and  decorated  with  the  Bava 
rian  colors.  There  was  a  sham  fire :  roofs  were  scaled,  lad- 
ders run  up  to  the  windows,  the  engines  played,  the  band 
performed,  and  the  people  shouted.  The  little  city  was 
unusually  lively  ;  the  inns  were  overflowing,  and  squads 
of  visitors,  with  green  boughs  in  their  hats,  filled  the 
■treets. 

After  dinner  I  undertook  an  excursion  to  the  Luisenburg, 
notwithstanding  I  felt  so  decrepit  at  starting  that  I  would 
have  given  a  considerable  sum  to  anybody  who  would  have 
insured  my  coming  back  upon  my  own  legs.  A  handsome 
linden  avenue  led  up  the  long  hill  to  the  southward  of  Wun- 


912  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

siedel,  from  the  crest  of  which  we  saw  Alexaudei-sbad,  al 
the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  seeming  to  lean  upon  the 
lower  edge  of  its  fir-forests.  By  a  foot-path  through  fields 
which  were  beds  of  blossoms — hare-bell,  butter-cup,  phlox, 
plover,  daisy,  and  corn-flower  intermixed — we  reached  the 
stately  water-cure  establishment  in  three-quarters  of  an 
hour.  I  first  visited  the  mineral  spring,  which,  the  guide 
mformed  me,  M'as  strongly  tinctured  with  saltpetre.  I  was 
therefore  surprised  to  hear  two  youths,  who  were  drinking 
when  we  came  up,  exclaim,  "  Exquisite !"  "  delicious  1"  But 
when  I  drank,  I  said  the  same  tiling.  The  taste  was  veri- 
tably fascinating,  and  I  took  glass  after  glass,  with  a  con- 
tinual craving  for  more. 

This  watering-place,  once  so  frequented,  is  now  compara- 
tively deserted.  But  fifty  guests  were  present,  and  they 
did  not  appear  to  be  very  splendid  persons.  The  grounds, 
however,  were  enlivened  by  the  presence  of  the  youths  and 
maidens  from  Hof.  I  visited  the  Kurhaus^  looked  into  the 
icy  plunge-baths  of  the  Hydropathic  establishment,  tasted 
some  very  hard  water,  and  then  took  the  broad  birchen 
avenue  which  climbs  to  the  Luisenburg.  On  entering  the 
forest  I  beheld  a  monument  erected  to  commemorate  the 
presence  of  Fred.  Wilhelm  III.  and  Louisa  of  Prussia,  in 
1805.  "  On  this  very  spot,"  said  my  guide,  "  the  King  and 
Queen,  with  King  Max.  I.  of  Bavaria  and  the  Emperor  of  Aus- 
tria  (!),  were  talking  together,  when  the  news  came  to  them 
that  Napoleon  was  in  Vienna.  They  hired  a  man  to  go  to 
Nuremberg  and  see  whether  it  was  true.  The  man — he  \& 
still  living,  and  we  shall  probably  see  him  this  afternoon  [in 
fact,  I  did  see  him] — walked  all  the  way  [ninety  English 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FRAJJCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.     318 

miles]  in  twenty-four  hours,  then  rested  twenty-four  more, 
and  walked  back  in  the  same  time.  Then  the  King  ol 
Prussia  immediately  went  home  and  decided  to  fight  againsl 
Napoleon,  which  was  the  cause  of  the  battle  of  Leipzig  I" 

The  road  slowly  but  steadily  ascended,  and  in  half  at 
hour  we  reached  the  commencement  of  the  Luisenburg 
Huge,  mossy  rocks,  piled  atop  of  one  another  in  the  wildest 
confusion,  overhung  the  way,  and  the  firs,  which  grew 
wherever  their  trunks  could  be  wedged  in,  formed  a  sun- 
proof canopy  above  them.  This  labyrinth  of  colossal 
granite  boulders,  called  the  Luisenburg  (or,  more  properly, 
the  Lugshurg,  its  original  name),  extends  to  the  summit 
of  the  mountain,  a  distance  of  eleven  hundred  feet.  It  is  a 
wilderness  of  Titanic  grottoes,  arches,  and  even  abutments 
of  regular  masonry,  of  astonishing  magnitude.  I  have  seen 
similar  formations  in  Saxony,  but  none  so  curiously  con- 
torted and  hurled  together. 

Although  this  place  has  been,  for  the  past  eighty  years,  a 
favorite  summer  resort  of  the  Bavarians,  it  has  scarcely  been 
heard  of  outside  of  Germany.  Jean  Paul,  during  his  residence 
at  Wunsiedel,  frequently  came  hither,  and  his  name  has  been 
given  to  one  of  the  most  striking  rocky  chambers.  There 
is  an  abundance  of  inscriptions,  dating  mostly  from  the  last 
decade  of  the  past  century,  and  exhibiting,  in  their  over- 
strained sentimentalism,  the  character  of  the  generation 
which  produced  "  Werther,"  "  Paul  and  Virginia,"  and 
**  The  Children  of  the  Abbey."  In  Klinger's  Grotto,  the 
roof  of  which  is  formed  by  an  immense  block  6fty-four  feet 
long  and  forty-four  feet  broad,  there  is  a  tablet,  erected  in 
1 794  by  a  certain  Herr  von  Carlo witz,  on  which  he  says* 


314  AT  HOME  AXD  ABROAD. 

"  My  wish  is  to  enjoy  my  life  unnoticed,  and  happily  mar 
ried,  and  to  be  worthy  of  the  tears  of  the  good  when  I  fear- 
lessly depart  I"  This  is  all  very  well ;  but  it  can  scarcely 
be  expected  that  for  centuries  to  come  the  world  will  care 
much  whether  Herr  von  Cariowitz  was  happily  married 
or  not. 

Climbing  upward  through  the  labyrinthine  clefts  of  th« 
rocks,  we  find  everywhere  similar  records.  The  names 
*'  Otto,  Therese,  Amalie,"  deeply  engraved,  proclaim  the 
fact  that  the  present  King  of  Greece  met  his  two  sisters 
here,  in  1836.  Just  above  them  six  enormous  blocks  are 
piled  one  upon  the  other,  reaching  almost  to  the  tops  of  the 
firs.  This  was  a  favorite  resort  of  Louisa  of  Prussia,  and 
the  largest  rock,  accordingly,  bears  the  following  descrip- 
tion :  "  "When  we  behold  the  mild  rays  of  the  lovely  spring 
sun  shining  on  this  rocky  colossus,  we  think  on  the  gentle 
glance  of  blissful  grace  wherewith  Louisa  to-day  made  us 
happy :  and  the  rock  itself  suggests  our  love  and  fidelity  to 
her!"  As  a  specimen  of  aristocratic  sentiment,  this  is 
unparalleled.  Beyond  this  point  the  immense  masses  lean 
agfunst  each  other,  blocking  up  the  path  and  sloping  for- 
ward, high  overhead,  as  if  in  the  act  of  falling.  In  1798 
somebody  placed  the  inscription  here,  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou 
come,  and  no  farther ;"  but  under  it  is  carved,  "  I  made  the 
attempt,  and  behold!  I  went  farther.  1804."  A  ladder 
enables  you  to  reach  an  opening,  whence  the  path,  travers- 
ing sunless  clefts,  crawling  through  holes  and  scaling  gigan- 
tic piles  of  the  formless  masonry  of  the  Deluge,  reaches  the 
summit.  Here,  on  a  lonely  rock,  still  stands  a  single  tower 
of  the  old  robber-fortress  which  w  as  destroyed  in  the  thir 


A  WALK  THROTJGH  THE  PEANCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.     3 IB 

teenth  century  by  Philip  of  Streitberg,  in  revenge  for  the 
abduction  of  his  biide  by  the  knight  of  the  Lugsburg. 

From  the  tower  we  had  fine  views  to  the  north,  east, 
and  west.  The  day  could  not  have  been  more  fortunately 
chosen.  The  air  was  unusually  clear,  and  the  distant 
villages  showed  with  remarkable  distinctness,  yet  a  light 
golden  shimmer  was  spread  over  the  landscape,  and,  by 
contrast  with  the  dark  firs  around  us,  it  seemed  like  an 
illuminated  picture  painted  on  a  transparent  canvas. 

On  the  side  of  one  of  the  largest  boulders  is  an  inscrip- 
tion recommending  those  who  are  at  enmity  to  mount  the 
rock  and  behold  the  landscape,  as  a  certain  means  of  recon- 
ciliation. It  records  the  meeting  of  two  estranged  friends, 
who  first  looked  around  them  and  then  fell  into  each 
other's  arms,  without  a  word.  This  was  truly  German. 
Enemies  of  Anglo-Saxon  blood,  I  am  afraid,  would  have 
tried  to  push  each  other  off  the  rock  instead  of  allowing 
the  scenery  to  reconcile  them.  One  more  inscription,  the 
climax  of  sentiment,  and  I  will  cease  to  copy :  "  Nature  is 
great,  Love  is  divine,  Lon^g  is  infinite,  Dreams  are  rich ; 
only  the  human  heart  is  poor.  And  yet — fortunate  is  he 
who  feels  this,  miserable  he  who  does  not  even  suspect  it. 
Thou  losest  a  dream  and  winn'st — Rest !"  To  be  candid, 
silly  as  many  of  these  inscriptions  were,  they  gave  a  human 
interest  to  the  spot.  Even  the  record  of  human  vanity  is 
preferable  to  the  absence  of  any  sign  of  man. 

Feeling  myself  in  tolerable  condition,  I  went  on,  along  the 
crest  of  the  mountain,  to  the  Burgstein,  a  mass  of  rock 
one  hundred  feet  high,  and  crowning  a  summit  nearly 
three  thousand  feet  above  the  sea.    The  top  is  about  seven 


316  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

by  nine  feet  in  (jonipass,  and  inclosed  by  a  strong  railing  to 
prevent  the  visitor  from  being  blown  off.  Hence  I  looked 
far  doMm  into  the  Upper  Palatinate  of  Bavaria,  away  to 
the  blue  Bohemian  mountains,  and,  to  the  west,  on  all  the 
dark  summits  of  the  Fichtelgebirge.  The  villages  shoue 
white  and  red  in  the  sun ;  the  meadow-ponds  were  sapphires 
set  in  emerald,  and  the  dark-purple  tint  of  the  forests 
mottled  the  general  golden-green  lustre  of  the  landscape. 
A  quarter  of  an  hour  further  is  the  Haberstein,  a  wonderful 
np-building  of  rock,  forming  a  double  tower,  from  eighty 
to  a  hundred  feet  high. 

On  returning  to  Wunsiedel  I  did  not  neglect  tc  visit 
Jean  Paul's  birth-place — a  plain,  substantial  bonse,  adjoin- 
ing the  church.  Here  the  street  forms  a  small  court,  in 
the  centre  of  which,  on  a  pedestal  of  granite,  stands  a 
bronze  bust  of  the  great  man.  The  inscription  is :  "  Wun- 
siedel to  her  Jean  Paul  Fr.  Richter?"*  Nothing  could  be 
simpler  or  more  appropriate.  In  front,  the  broad  street, 
lined  with  large,  cheerful  yellow  or  pink  houses,  stretches 
down  the  hUl  and  closes  with  a  vista  of  distant  mountains. 
The  place  is  very  gay,  clean,  and  attractive,  notwithstand- 
ing its  humble  position.  Jean  Paul  describes  it  completely, 
when  he  says :  "  I  am  glad  to  have  been  bom  in  thee,  thou 
bright  little  town !'' 

I  was  aroused  the  next  morning  by  the  singing  of  % 
hymn,  followed  by  the  beating  of  a  drum.  Both  sounds 
proceeded  from  a  company  of  twenty  or  more  small  boys, 
pupils  of  a  school  at  Ebersdorf  (in  the  Franconian  Forest), 
»fho,  accompanied  by  their  teach  ere,  were  making  a  tour  oo 
Toot  through  the  Fichtelgebirge.    The  sight  admonishtd 


A  WALK  fHROTTGH  THE  FEANCONlAN  SWrrZEKLAND.     31 1 

me  to  resume  ray  march,  as  I  intended  going  southward  t€ 
Kemnath,  in  the  Upper  Palatinate.  The  wind  blew  fresh 
from  the  southwest,  and  heavy  black  clouds  filled  the  sky. 
My  road  led  up  a  valley  between  the  twin  mountain-groups, 
irossing  a  ridge  which  divides  the  waters  of  Europe.  The 
forests  were  as  black  as  ink  under  the  shadows  of  the 
clouds,  and  the  distant  hills  had  a  dark  indigo  color,  which 
gave  a  remarkable  tone  to  the  landscape.  Take  a  picture 
of  Salvator  Rosa  and  substitute  blue  for  brown,  and  you 
may  form  some  idea  of  it. 

Presently  the  rain  came,  at  first  in  scattering  drops,  but 
soon  in  a  dj-iving  shower.  My  guide,  to  keep  up  my  spirits, 
talked  on  and  on  in  the  broad  Prankish  dialect,  which 
I  could  only  comprehend  by  keeping  all  ray  faculties  on 
a  painful  stretch.  "  Down  in  the  Palatinate,"  said  he,  "  the 
people  speak  a  very  difficult  language.  They  cut  off  all 
the  words,  and  bring  out  the  pieces  very  fast."  This  was 
precisely  what  he  himself  did  !  For  instance,  what  German 
scholar  could  understand  '•'■wid'r  a  weng  renga  I''''  (wieder 
ein  wenig  Regen) — which  was  one  of  the  clearest  of  his 
expressions.  To  beguile  the  rainy  road  he  related  to  me 
the  history  of  a  band  of  robbers,  who  in  the  years  1845 
and  '46  infested  the  Franconian  mountains,  and  plundered 
the  highways  on  all  sides. 

By  this  time  I  had  the  Fichtelgebirge  behind  me,  and 
the  view  opened  southward,  down  the  valley  of  the  Nab. 
The  EauTie  Kulm,  an  isolated  basaltic  peak,  lifted  its  head 
=n  the  middle  of  the  landscape,  and  on  the  left  rose  the 
long,  windy  ridge  of  the  Weissenstein.  Here  and  there  a 
rocky  summit  was  crowned  with  the  ruins  of  an  ancient 


818  AT   BOMB   AND   ABUOAD. 

robber-castle.  But  the  scene  would  have  been  frightful  on 
canvas,  it  lay  so  bleak  and  rigid  under  the  rainy  sky.  In 
two  hours  more  I  passed  the  boundary  between  Franconia 
and  the  Upper  Palatihate. 

Here  my  Frauconian  excursion  closes.  The  next  day 
I  reached  Amberg,  on  the  Eastern  Bavarian  Railway, 
having  accomplished  about  a  hundred  miles  on  foot,  to  the 
manifest  improvement  of  one  knee  at  the  expense  of  the 
other.  But  I  had,  in  addition,  a  store  of  cheerful  and 
refreshing  experiences,  and  my  confidence  in  the  Walking. 
Cure  is  so  little  shaken  that  I  propose,  at  some  future  time, 
trying  a  second  experiment  in  the  Bohemian  Forest — a 
region  still  less  known  to  the  tourbt,  if  possible,  than  the 
Franconian  Switzerland. 


V. 

TRAVELS   AT   HOME. 


1. — ^The   Hudson   and  the   Catskills. 

July,  i860. 
I  HAVE  been  so  often  asked,  *'  Where  are  you  going 
next  ?'*  and  have  so  often  answered,  "  I  am  going  to  travel 
at  home,"  that  what  was  at  first  intended  for  a  joke  ha? 
naturally  resolved  itself  into  a  reality.  The  genuine  travel 
ler  has  a  chronic  dislike  of  railways,  and  if  he  be  in  addi- 
tion a  lecturer,  who  is  obliged  to  sit  in  a  cramped  position 
and  breathe  bad  air  for  five  months  of  the  year,  he  is  the 
less  likely  to  prolong  his  Winter  tortures  through  the  Sum- 
mer. Hence,  it  is  scarcely  a  wonder  that,  although  I  have 
seen  so  much  of  our  country,  I  have  travelled  so  little  in  it. 
I  knew  the  Himalayas  before  I  had  seen  the  Green  Moun- 
tains, the  Cataracts  of  the  Nile  before  Niagara,  and  the 
Libyan  Desert  before  the  Illinois  prairies.  I  have  never 
yet  (let  me  make  the  disgraceful  confession  at  the  outset) 


820  Al    HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

beheld  the  White  Mountains,  or  Quebec,  or  the  Saguenay, 
or  Lake  George,  or  Trenton  Falls ! 

In  all  probability,  I  should  now  be  at  home,  enjoying 
Summer  indolence  under  the  shade  of  my  oaks,  were  it  not 
for  the  visit  of  some  European  friends,  who  have  come  ovei 
to  see  the  land  which  all  their  kindness  could  not  mak 
their  friend  forget.  The  latter,  in  fact,  possesses  a  fail 
share  of  the  national  sensitiveness,  and  defended  his 
country  with  so  much  zeal  and  magnificent  assertions,  that 
his  present  visitor*  were  not  a  little  carious  to  see  whethei 
their  own  impressions  would  correspond  with  his  pictures 
He,  on  the  other  hand,  being  anxious  to  maintain  his  own 
as  well  as  his  country's  credit,  offered  his  services  as  guide 
and  showman  to  Our  Mountains,  Rivers,  Lakes,  and  Cata- 
racts ;  and  this  is  how  he  (I,  you  understand)  came  to  start 
upon  the  present  journey. 

On  the  whole,  I  think  it  a  good  plan,  not  to  see  all  your 
own  country  until  after  you  have  seen  other  lands.  It  is 
easy  to  say,  with  the  school-girls,  "  I  adore  Nature !" — ^but 
he  who  adores,  never  criticises.  "  What  a  beautiful  view !" 
every  one  may  cry :  "  why  is  it  beautiful  ?''  would  puzzle 
many  to  answer.  Long  study,  careful  observation,  and 
various  standards  of  comparison  are  necessary — as  much  so 
as  in  Art — to  enable  one  to  pronounce  upon  the  relative 
excellence  of  scenery.  I  shall  have,  on  this  tour,  the  assist 
ance  of  a  pair  of  experienced,  appreciative  foreign  eyes,  ii 
addition  to  my  own,  and  you  may  therefore  rely  upon  my 
giving  you  a  tolerably  impartial  report  upon  American  life 
and  landscapes. 

When  one  has  a  point  to  cany,  the  beginning  is  every 


TBAYELS  XT   HOHli.  821 

thing.  I  therefore  embarked  with  ray  friends  on  a  North 
River  day-boat,  at  the  Harrison-street  pier.  The  calliope, 
or  steam-organ  attached  to  the  machine,  was  playing  '*  Jor- 
dan's a  hard  road  to  travel,"  with  astonishing  shrillness  and 
power.  "  There's  an  American  invention  I"  I  exclaimed,  in 
triumph ;  "  the  waste  steam,  instead  of  being  blown  oflf,  ia 
turned  into  an  immense  hand-organ,  and  made  to  grind  out 
this  delightful  music.'*  By-and-by,  however,  came  one  "of 
my  companions,  who  announced  :  "  I  have  discovered  the 
origin  of  the  music,"  and  thereupon  showed  me  a  box  of 
green  wire-gauze,  in  which  sat  a  slender  youth,  manipulat- 
ing a  key-board  with  wonderful  contortions.  This  dis- 
covery explained  to  us  why  certain  passages  were  slurred 
over  and  others  shrieked  out  with  awful  vehemence — a  fact 
which  we  had  previously  attributed  to  the  energy  of  the 
steam. 

Other  disappointments  awaited  me.  The  two  foregoing 
days  had  been  insufferably  warm — 92**  in  the  shade — and 
we  were  all,  at  my  recommendation,  clad  in  linen.  "  This 
is  just  the  weather  for  the  Hudson,"  said  I ;  "  the  motion 
of  the  boat  will  fan  away  the  heat,  while  this  intense  sun- 
shine will  beautify  the  shores."  But,  by  the  time  we 
reached  Weehawken,  the  north  wind  blew  furiously,  streak- 
mg  the  water  with  long  ribands  of  foam ;  we  unpacked 
heavy  shawls  and  coats,  and  were  still  half  frozen.  The  air 
was  so  very  clear  and  keen  that  the  scenery  was  too  distinct 
—a  common  fault  of  our  American  sky — destroying  the 
charm  of  perspective  and  color.  My  friends  would  not 
believe  in  the  actual  breadth  of  the  Hudson  or  the  height 
of  the  Palisades,  so  near  were  the  shores  brought  by  the 


322  AT   HOMB   AKB   ABROAD. 

lens  of  the  air.  The  eaHtera  bank,  from  Spuyten-Duyvei 
to  Tarrytown,  reminded  them  of  the  Elbe  between  Ham- 
burg and  Blankenese,  a  comparison  which  I  found  correct. 
Tappan  and  Haverstraw  Bays  made  the  impression  1 
desired,  and  thenceforth  I  felt  that  our  river  would  amply 
justify  his  fame. 

Several  years  had  passed  since  I  had  seen  the  Hudson 
from  the  deck  of  a  steamer.  I  found  great  changes,  and 
for  the  better.  The  elegant  summer  residences  of  the  New 
Yorkers,  peeping  out  from  groves,  nestled  in  warm  dells, 
or,  most  usually,  crowning  the  highest  points  of  the  hills, 
now  extend  more  than  half-way  to  Albany.  The  treet 
have  been  judiciously  spared,  straggling  woods  carved  into 
shape,  stony  slopes  converted  into  turf,  and,  in  fact,  the 
long  landscape  of  the  eastern  bank  gardened  into  more 
perfect  beauty.  Those  Gothic,  Tuscan,  and  Norman  villa?, 
with  their  air  of  comfort  and  home,  give  an  attractive, 
human  sentiment  to  the  scenery,  and  I  would  not  exchange 
them  for  the  castles  of  the  Rhine. 

Our  boat  was  crowded,  mostly  with  Southerners,  who 
(night  be  recognised  by  their  lank,  sallow  faces,  and  the 
broad,  serai-negro  accent  with  which  they  spoke  the  Ame- 
rican tongue.  How  long,  I  wondered,  before  these  Ghivi 
(the  California  term  for  Southerners — an  abbreviation  of 
Chivalry)  start  the  exciting  topic,  the  discussion  of  which 
khey  so  deprecate  in  us  ?  Not  an  hour  had  elapsed,  when, 
noticing  a  small  crowd  on  the  forward  deck,  I  discovered 
half  a  dozen  Chivs  expatiating  to  some  Northern  youth  on 
the  beauties  of  Slavery.  The  former  were  very  mild  and 
guarded  in  their  expressions,  as  if  fearful  that  the  outrage! 


TEaYEI^  at  H0M£.  82i 

inflicted  on  Northern  men  in  the  South  might  be  returned 
upon  them.  "  Why,''  said  one  of  them,  "  it's  our  interest 
to  treat  our  slaves  well ;  if  we  lose  one,  we  lose  a  thousand 
dollars — you  may  be  shore  of  that.  No  man  will  be  so  much 
of  a  d — d  fool  as  to  waste  his  own  property  in  that  way." 

"  Just  as  we  take  care  of  our  horses,"  remarked  a  North 
ern  youth ;  "  it's  about  the  same  thing,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Well — yes — it  is  pretty  much  the  same,  only  we  treat 
'em  more  humanitary,  of  course.  Then  agin,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  when  you've  got  two  races  together,  a  higher  and 
a  lower,  what  are  you  g^^  me  to  do  ?  " — but  you  have  read 
the  rest  of  his  remarks  in  a  speech  of  Caleb  Gushing,  and  I 
need  not  repeat  them. 

The  Highlands,  of  course,  impressed  my  friends  as  much 
as  I  could  have  wished.  It  is  customary  among  our  tour- 
ists to  deplore  the  absence  of  ruins  on  those  heights — ^a 
very  unnecessary  regret,  in  my  opinion.  To  show  that  we 
had  associations  fully  as  inspiring  as  those  connected  with 
feudal  warfare,  I  related  the  story  of  Stony  Point,  and 
Andre's  capture,  and  pointed  out,  successively,  Kosciusko's 
Monument,  old  Fort  Putnam,  and  Washington's  Head 
quaiters.  Sunny  side  was  also  a  classic  spot  to  my  friends, 
nor  was  Idlewild  forgotten.  "  Oh,"  said  a  young  lady,  as 
we  were  passing  Cold  Spring,  "  where  does  the  poet  Morris 
live  ? ''  Although  I  was  not  the  person  appealed  to,  I  took 
the  liberty  of  showing  her  the  dweUing  of  the  warrior- 
bard.  "  You  will  observe,"  I  added,  "  that  the  poet  has 
a  full  view  of  Cro'nest,  wliich  he  has  immortalized  in  song. 
Fonder  willow,  trailing  its  branches  in  the  water,  is  said 
io  have  suggested  to  him  that  gem. 


8^4  AT   HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

"  '  Near  the  lake  where  drooped  the  willow.' " 

"  Oh,  Clara ! "  said  the  young   lady  to   her  companiou, 
"  isn't  it — isnH  it  sweet  V" 

In  due  time,  we  reached  Catskill,  and  made  all  haste  to 
get  off  for  the  Mountain  House.  There  are  few  summits 
so  easy  of  access — certainly  no  other  mountain  resort  in 
our  country  where  the  facilities  of  getting  up  and  down  are 
80  complete  and  satisfactory.  The  journey  would  be  tame, 
however,  were  it  not  for  the  superb  view  of  the  mountains, 
rising  higher,  and  putting  on  a  deeper  blue,  with  every 
mile  of  approach.  The  intermediate  country  has  a  rough, 
ragged,  incomplete  look.  The  fields  are  stony,  the  houses 
mostly  untidy,  the  crops  thin,  and  the  hay  (this  year,  at 
least)  scanty.  Even  the  woods  appear  stunted :  fine  tree- 
forms  are  rare.  My  friends  were  so  charmed  by  the  pur- 
ple asclepiads,  which  they  had  never  before  seen  except  in 
green-houses,  the  crimson-spiked  sumachs,  and  the  splendid 
fire-lilies  in  the  meadows,  that  they  overlooked  the  want 
of  beauty  in  the  landscape. 

On  reaching  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  the  character  of  the 
scenery  entirely  changes.  The  trees  in  Rip  Van  Winkle's 
dell  are  large  and  luxuriantly  leaved,  while  the  backward 
views,  enframed  with  foliage  and  softly  painted  by  the  blue 
pencil  of  the  air,  grow  more  charming  as  you  ascend.  Ere 
long,  the  shadow  of  the  towering  North  Mountain  was 
flung  over  us,  as  we  walked  up  in  advance  of  the  laboring 
horses.  The  road  was  bathed  in  sylvan  coolness ;  the  noise 
of  an  invisible  stream  beguiled  the  steepness  of  the  way ; 
emerald  ferns  sprang  from  the  rocks,  and  the  red  blossoms 
of  the  showy  rubus  and  the  pale  blush  of  the  laurel  brighi- 


TBAVBIB   AT   HOMK  825 

ened  the  gloom  of  the  undergrowth.  It  ia  fortauate  that 
the  wood  has  not  been  cut  away,  and  but  rare  glimpse? 
of  the  scenes  below  are  allowed  to  the  traveller.  Landing 
in  the  rear  of  the  Mountain  House,  the  huge  white  mass 
of  which  completely  shuts  out  the  view,  thirty  paces  bring 
you  to  the  brink  of  the  rock,  and  you  hang  suspended,  as 
if  by  magic,  over  the  world. 

It  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  sunset — perhaps  the 
best  moment  of  the  day  for  the  Catskill  panorama.  The 
shadows  of  the  mountain-tops  reached  nearly  to  the  Hudson, 
while  the  sun,  shining  directly  down  the  Clove,  interposed 
a  thin  wedge  of  golden  lustre  between.  The  farm-housea 
on  a  thousand  hills  beyond  the  river  sparkled  in  the  glow, 
and  the  Berkshire  Mountains  swam  in  a  luminous,  rosy 
mist.  The  shadows  strode  eastward  at  the  rate  of  a  league 
a  minute  as  we  gazed ;  the  forests  darkened,  the  wheat- 
fields  became  brown,  and  the  houses  glimmered  like  extin- 
guished stars.  Then  the  cold  north  wind  blew,  roaring  in 
the  pmes,  the  last  lurid  purple  faded  away  from  the  distant 
hills,  and  in  half  an  hour  the  world  below  was  as  dark  and 
strange  and  spectral,  as  if  it  were  an  unknown  planet  we 
were  passing  on  our  journey  through  space. 

The  scene  from  Catskill  is  unlike  any  other  mountain 
view  that  I  know.  It  is  imposing  through  the  very  sim 
plicity  of  its  featm-es.  A  line  drawn  from  north  to  south 
through  the  sphere  of  vision  divides  it  into  two  equal 
parts.  The  western  half  is  mountain,  falling  off  in  a  line  of 
rock  parapet;  the  eastern  is  a  vast  semi-circle  of  blue  land- 
scape, half  a  mile  lower.  Owing  to  the  abrupt  rise  of  the 
mountain,  the  nearest  farms  at  the  base  seem  to  be  almo«t 


326  AT  HOUB  AND  ABBOAD. 

under  one's  feet,  and  the  country  as  far  as  the  Hudaoc 
presents  the  same  appearance  as  if  seen  from  a  balloon 
Its  undulations  have  vanished ;  it  is  as  flat  as  a  pancake ; 
and  even  the  bold  line  of  hills  stretching  toward  Saugertiea 
can  only  be  distinguished  by  the  color  of  the  forests  upon 
them.  Beyond  the  river,  although  the  markings  of  the 
hills  are  lost,  the  rapid  rise  of  the  country  from  the  water 
level  is  very  distinctly  seen :  the  whole  region  appears  to 
be  lifted  on  a  sloping  plane,  so  as  to  expose  the  greatest 
possible  surface  to  the  eye.  On  the  horizon,  the  Hudson 
Highlands,  the  Berkshire  and  Green  Mountains,  unite  their 
chains,  forming  a  continuous  line  of  misty  blue. 

At  noonday,  under  a  cloudless  sky,  the  picture  is  rather 
monotonous.  After  the  eye  is  accustomed  to  its  grand, 
aerial  depth,  one  seeks  relief  in  spjdng  out  the  character- 
istics of  the  separate  farms,  or  in  watching  specks  (of  the 
size  of  fleas)  crawling  along  the  highways.  Yonder  man 
and  horse,  going  up  and  down  between  the  rows  of  com, 
resemble  a  little  black  bug  on  a  bit  of  striped  calico. 
When  the  sky  is  full  of  moving  clouds,  however,  nothing 
can  be  more  beautiful  than  the  shifting  masses  of  light  and 
shade,  traversing  such  an  immense  field.  There  are,  also, 
brief  moments  when  the  sun  or  moon  are  reflected  in 
the  Hudson — when  rainbows  bend  slantingly  beneath  you, 
striking  bars  of  seven-hued  flame  across  the  landscape — 
when,  even,  the  thunders  march  below,  and  the  fountaini 
of  the  rain  are  under  your  feet. 

What  most  impressed  ray  friends  was  the  originality  of 
the  view  Familiar  with  the  best  mountain  scenery  of 
Europe,  they  could  find  nothing  with  which  to  compare  it 


TSAVSLS  AX  HOMS.  32^ 

As  my  movements  during  this  journey  are  guided  entirely 
by  their  wishes,  I  was  glad  when  they  said :  '*  Let  us  stay 
here  another  day !'' 

At  the  foot  of  the  Catakill,  the  laurel  showed  its  dark-red 
seed  vessels ;  halfway  up,  the  last  faded  blossoms  were 
Iropping  oif;  but,  as  we  approached  the  top,  the  dense 
thickets  were  covered  with  a  glory  of  blossoms.  Far  and 
near,  in  the  caverns  of  shade  under  the  pines  and  oaks  and 
maples,  flashed  whole  mounds  of  flowers,  white  and  blush- 
color,  dotted  with  the  vivid  pink  of  the  crimped  buds. 
The  finest  Cape  azaleas  and  ericas  are  scarcely  more  beau- 
tiful than  our  laurel.  Between  those  mounds  bloomed  the 
flame-colored  lily,  scarcely  to  be  distinguished,  at  a  little 
distance,  from  the  breast  of  an  oriole.  The  forest  scenery 
••as  a  curious  amalgamation  of  Norway  and  the  tropics. 
''  What  a  land,  what  a  climate,"  exclaimed  one  of  my 
friends,  "  that  can  support  such  inconsistencies !"  "  After 
this,"  I  replied,  "  it  will  perhaps  be  easier  for  you  to  com- 
prehend the  apparent  inconsistencies,  the  opposing  elements, 
which  you  will  find  in  the  American  character." 

The  next  morning  we  walked  to  the  Katterskill  Falls. 
Since  my  last  visit  (in  1851)  a  handsome  hotel — ^the  Laurel 
House — has  been  erected  here  by  Mr.  Schutt.  The  road 
into  the  Clove  has  also  been  improved,  and  the  guests  at 
the  Mountain  House  make  frequent  excursions  into  the  wild 
heart  of  the  Catskill  region,  especially  to  Stony  Clove 
fourteen  miles  distant,  at  the  foot  of  the  blue  mountau 
which  faces  you  as  you  look  down  the  Katterskill  glen. 
The  Falls  ai  e  very  lovely  (I  think  that  is  the  proper  word)— 
they  will  bear  seeing  many  times — but  don't  believe  those 


328  AT   HOME   AND    A.BROAD. 

who  tell  you  that  they  surpass  Niagara.  Some  people  hav« 
a  habit  of  pronouncing  every  last  tiew  they  see:  "liie 
finest  thing  in  the  world !" 

The  damming  up  of  the  water,  so  much  deprecated  by 
he  romantic,  strikes  me  as  an  admirable  arrangement. 
When  the  dam  is  full,  the  stream  overruns  it  and  you  have 
as  much  water  as  if  there  were  no  dam.  Then,  as  you 
stand  at  the  head  of  the  lower  fall,  watching  the  slender 
scarf  of  silver  flutteritig  down  the  black  gulf,  comes  a 
sudden  dazzling  rush  from  the  summit ;  the  fall  leaps  away 
from  the  half-way  ledge  where  it  lingered ;  bursting  in 
rockets  and  shooting  stars  of  spray  on  the  rocks,  and  you 
have  the  full  effect  of  the  stream  when  swollen  by  spring 
thaws.  Really,  this  temporary  increase  of  volume  is  the 
finest  feature  of  the  fall. 

No  visitor  to  Catskill  should  neglect  a  visit  to  the 
North  and  South  Mountains.  The  views  from  these  points, 
although  almost  identical  with  that  from  the  house,  have 
yet  different  foregrounds,  and  embrace  additional  segments 
of  the  horizon.  The  North  Peak,  I  fancy,  must  have  been 
in  Bryant's  mind,  when  he  wrote  bis  poem  of  "The 
Hunter."  Those  beautiful  features,  which  hovered  b(fore 
the  hunter's  eyes,  in  the  blue  gulf  of  air,  as  he  dreamed  on 
the  rock — are  they  not  those  of  the  same  maiden  ^  rho, 
rising  from  the  still  stream,  enticed  Goethe's  "  Fisher"  "nto 
ts  waves  ? — the  poetic  embodiment  of  that  fascim  tion 
which  lurks  in  height  and  depth  ?  Opposite  the  N  i  rth 
Rock,  there  is  a  weather-beaten  pine,  which  springing  ifva 
the  mountain-side  below,  lifts  its  head  just  to  the  lev*'  of 
the  rook,  and  not  more  than  twelve  feet  in  front  of  it     ] 


TBAVELS    AT   HOME.  SStt 

never  see  it  without  feeling  a  keen  desire  to  spring  from 
the  rock  and  lodge  in  its  top.  The  Hanlon  Brothers,  or 
Blondiu,  I  presume,  would  not  have  the  least  objection  %o 
perform  such  a  feat. 

In  certain  conditions  of  the  atmosphere,  the  air  between 
you  and  the  lower  world  seems  to  become  a  visible  fluid — 
an  ocean  of  pale,  crystalline  bhie,  at  the  bottom  of  which 
the  landscape  lies.  Peering  down  mto  its  depths,  you  at 
last  experience  a  numbness  of  the  senses,  a  delicious  wan- 
dering of  the  imagination,  such  as  follows  the  fifth  pipe  of 
opium.  Or,  in  the  words  of  Walt.  Whitman,  you  "  loaf, 
and  invite  your  soul." 

The  guests  we  found  at  the  Mountain  House  were  "ather 
a  quiet  company.  Several  families  were  quartered  there 
for  the  season  ;  but  it  was  perhaps  too  early  for  the  even- 
ing hops  and  sunrise  flirtations  which  I  noticed  ten  years 
ago.  Parties  formed  and  strolled  off  quietly  into  the 
woods ;  elderly  gentlemen  sank  into  arm-chairs  on  the 
rocks,  and  watched  the  steamers  on  the  Hudson ;  nurses 
pulled  venturous  children  away  from  the  precipice,  and 
young  gentlemen  from  afar  sat  on  the  veranda,  and  wrote 
in  their  note-books.  You  would  not  have  guessed  the 
number  of  guests,  if  you  had  not  seen  them  at  table.  1 
found  this  quiet,  this  nonchalance,  this  "  take  care  of  your- 
self and  let  other  people  alone"  characteristic  very  agree- 
able, and  the  difference,  in  this  respect,  since  my  last  visit, 
eads  me  to  hope  that  there  has  been  a  general  improve- 
ment (which  was  highly  necessary)  in  the  public  manner! 
of  the  Americans. 


8s0  at  hom£  and  abboab 

2. — Bbbkshirb  and  Bostok. 

Wb  descended  the  mountain  on  the  third  day,  in  a  lam 
bering  Troy  coach,  in  company  with  a  pleasant  Quakei 
family,  took  the  steamer  to  Hudson,  dined  there  (indif 
ferently),  and  then  embarked  for  Pittsfield,  which  we  made 
a  stopping-place  on  the  way  to  Boston.  My  masculine 
companion,  who  is  a  thorough  European  agriculturist,  was 
much  struck  with  the  neglected  capacities  of  the  country 
through  which  we  passed.  His  admiration  of  our  agri- 
cultural implements  is  quite  overbalanced  by  bis  deprecia- 
tion of  our  false  system  of  rotation  in  crops,  our  shocking 
waste  of  manures,  and  general  neglect  of  the  economies  of 
farming.     I  think  he  is  about  three-fourths  right. 

The  heat  was  intense  when  we  lefl  Hudson,  but,  during 
the  thousand  feet  of  ascent  between  that  place  and  Pitts- 
field,  we  came  into  a  fresher  air.  A  thunder  shower,  an 
hour  previous,  had  obligingly  laid  the  dust,  and  hung  the 
thickets  with  sparkling  drops.  The  Taghkanic  Mountains 
rose  dark  and  clear  above  the  rapid  landscapes  of  the  rail- 
road :  finally  old  Greylock  hove  in  sight,  and  a  good  hour 
before  sunset  we  reached  Pittsfield.  As  I  never  joined  the 
noble  order  of  the  Sponge — the  badge  whereof  so  many 
correspondents  openly  sport — but  pay  my  way  regularly, 
like  the  non-corresponding  crowd,  my  word  may  be  impli 
citly  taken  when  I  say  that  the  Berkshire  House  is  one  of 
the  quietest  and  pleasantest  hotels  in  the  country. 

Here  let  me  say  a  word  about  hotels  in  general.    The 
purpose  of  a  tavern,  hostel,  inn,  hotel,  house,  or  whatever 


XBAYJBXS  AT  HOMS.  83) 

it  may  be  called,  is,  I  take  it,  to  afford  a  temporary  home 
for  those  who  are  away  from  home.  Hence,  that  hotel 
only  deserves  the  name,  which  allows  each  of  its  guests  to 
do  as  he  pleases,  no  one  conflicting  with  the  rights  of  th 
others.  If  I  would  not  allow  close,  unventilated  bed-rooms, 
lack  of  water,  towels  the  size  of  a  handkerchief,  dirty  sheets 
and  general  discomfort,  in  the  home  I  build  for  myself, 
should  I  not  be  permitted  to  eschew  such  things  in  the 
home  I  hire  for  a  night?  Should  I  not  call  for  what  I 
want,  and  have  it,  if  it  is  to  be  had  ?  Should  I,  late 
arrived,  and  suffering  from  loss  of  sleep,  be  roused  at  day- 
light by  a  tremendous  gong  at  my  door,  and  be  obliged  to 
rush  down  to  breakfast,  under  penalty  of  losing  it  alto- 
gether ?  But  in  too  many  of  our  hotels  the  rule  is  the 
reverse.  The  landlord  says,  in  practice:  "This  is  my 
house :  I  have  certain  rules  by  which  it  is  governed :  if 
you  pay  me  two  dollars  and  a  half  a  day,  I  will  grant  you 
the  privilege  of  submitting  to  my  orders."  One  is  often 
received  with  a  magnificent  condescension,  which  says,  as 
plainly  as  words :  "  See  what  a  favor  I  am  doing  you,  in 
receiving  you  into  my  house  !"  In  reality  the  house,  the 
furniture,  the  servants,  do  not  belong  to  the  landlord,  but 
to  the  traveller.  I  intend  some  day  to  write  an  Essay  on 
Hotels,  in  which  I  shall  discuss  the  subject  at  length,  and 
thetefore  will  not  anticipate  it  here. 

My  friends  were  delighted  with  Pittsifield,  which,  in  its 
Bummer  dress,  was  new  to  me.  We  spent  so  much  of  our 
time  at  the  windows,  watching  the  evening  lights  on  the 
mountains,  that  it  was  unanimously  resolved  to  undertake 
•m  excursaon  the  next  morning  before  the  arrival  of  the  ex 


532  AT   HOMB   AND   ABROAD. 

press  train  for  Boston.  We  took  an  open  carriage  to  tK4 
Hancock  Settlement  of  Shakers,  four  miles  west  of  the  vil- 
lage. The  roads  were  in  splendid  order,  last  night's  rain 
having  laid  the  dust,  washed  the  trees,  and  given  the  wooded 
mountains  a  deeper  green.  The  elm,  the  chaiacteristic  tree 
of  New  England,  charmed  us  by  the  variety  and  beauty  of 
its  forms.  The  elm,  rather  than  the  pine,  should  figure 
on  the  state  banner  of  Massachusetts.  In  all  other  trees — 
the  oak,  the  beech,  the  ash,  the  maple,  the  gum,  and  tulip 
trees,  the  pine,  even — Massachusetts  is  surpassed  by  Penn- 
sylvania, Virginia,  Ohio,  and  Kentucky,  but  the  elm  is  a 
plume  which  will  never  be  plucked  from  her  bonnet. 

"  Here !"  said  one  of  my  companions,  pointing  to  one  of 
the  many  wooded  knolls  by  the  roadside,  "  is  one  of  the 
immeasurable  advantages  which  America  possesses  over 
Europe.  Every  one  of  these  groves  is  a  finished  home, 
lacking  only  the  house.  What  we  must  wait  a  century  to 
get,  what  we  must  be  rich  in  order  to  possess,  is  here  cheap 
and  universal.  Build  a  house  here  or  there,  out  down  a 
tree  or  two  to  let  in  the  distant  landscape,  clear  away  some 
of  the  underwood,  and  you  have  a  princely  residence." 
Bear  in  mind,  my  fashionable  readers,  that  my  friend  has 
only  been  six  weeks  in  America ;  that  he  has  not  yet  learned 
the  difference  between  a  brown-stone  front  on  Fifth  Avenue 
and  a  clap-boarded  house  in  the  country ;  that  (I  blush  to 
say  it)  he  prefers  handsome  trees  out-of-doors  to  rosewood 
fhrniture  in-doors,  and  would  rather  break  his  shins  climb 
ing  the  roughest  hills  than  ride  behind  matched  bays  in  a 
carriage  ornamented  with  purchased  heraldry.  I  admit 
his  want  of  oi\  ilization,  but  I  record  this  expression  of  hii 


TRAVELS  AT  HOMK.  383 

taste  that  you  may  smile  at  the  absurdity  of  European 
ideas. 

Our  approach  to  the  Shaker  settlement  was  marked  bjf 
the  superior  evidences  of  neatness  and  care  in  cultivation. 
The  road  became  an  avenue  of  stately  sugar  maples ;  on  the 
right  rose,  in  pairs,  the  huge,  plain  residences  of  the  bre- 
thren and  sisters — ugly  structures,  dingy  in  color,  but  scru- 
pulously clean  and  orderly.  I  believe  the  same  aspect  of 
order  would  increase  the  value  of  any  farm  five  dollars  an 
acre,  so  much  more  attractive  would  the  buyer  find  the 
property ;  but  farmers  generally  don't  understand  this.  We 
halted,  finally,  at  the*  principal  settlement,  distinguished  by 
a  huge  circular  stone  barn.  The  buildings  stood  upon  a  lot 
grown  with  fresh  turf,  and  were  connected  by  flag -stone 
walks.  Mats  and  scrapers  at  the  door  testified  to  the  uni- 
versal cleanliness.  While  waiting  in  the  reception-room, 
which  was  plain  to  barrenness,  but  so  clean  that  its  very 
atmosphere  was  sweet,  I  amused  myself  by  reading  some 
printed  regulations,  the  conciseness  and  directness  of  which 
were  refreshing.  "  Visitors,"  so  ran  the  first  rule,  "  must 
remember,  that  this  is  not  a  public-house.  We  have  our 
regulations  just  as  well  as  other  people,  and  we  expect  that 
ours  will  be  observed  as  others  expect  theirs  to  be."  An- 
other was :  "  Those  who  obtain  lodging,  or  who  are  ftir- 
nished  with  meals  at  their  own  request,  are  expected  to  pay 
for  the  same."  One  of  the  most  important,  apparently, 
was  this :  "  Married  persons  visiting  the  Family  must  oc- 
cupy separate  apartments  during  the  time  of  theii'  stay.*' 

Presently,  an  ancient  sister  made  her  appearance.  She 
wore  a  very  plain  book-muslin  cap,  and  a  coarse  blue  gown, 


334  AT  HOMK  AND  ABROAD. 

which  huflg  so  straight  to  her  feet  that  more  than  one 
under  garment  was  scarcely  possible.  She  informed  us, 
courteously,  that  curious  strangers  like  ourselves  were  not 
usually  admitted,  but  made  an  exception  in  favor  of  my 
companions,  seeing  they  had  come  such  a  distance,  and 
called  one  of  the  brethren  to  show  us  the  barn.  This  is 
really  a  curious  structure.  The  inside  is  an  immense  mow, 
divided  into  four  sections  for  different  kinds  of  hay.  Next 
to  the  wall  is  a  massive  platform,  around  which  a  dozen 
carts  can  drive  and  unload  at  the  same  time.  Under  this 
platform  are  the  stables,  ranged  in  a  circle,  and  able  to 
accommodate  a  hundred  cattle.  The  brother,  with  an  air 
of  secresy  which  I  was  slow  to  understand,  beckoned  the 
gentlemen  of  our  party  to  a  portion  of  the  stable  where 
he  had  a  fine  two  year  old  bull,  which,  he  seemed  to  think, 
was  not  a  proper  animal  for  ladies  to  look  upon. 

The  sister  afterward  conducted  us  to  the  dairy,  where 
two  still  more  ancient  sisters  were  engaged  in  cutting  up 
curd  for  a  cheese.  They  showed  us  with  considerable 
pride  the  press-room,  cheese-room,  and  milk-room,  which 
were  cool  and  fragrant  with  the  rich  nutritive  smell  of  cheese 
and  whey.  The  dwellings  of  the  separated  sexes,  which  I 
was  most  desirous  to  see,  were  not  exhibited.  The  sis- 
tens  referred  us  to  Lebanon,  where  strangers  are  habitually 
admitted.  The  only  peculiarity  of  their  speech  seemed  tc 
be  the  use  of  the  "  Yea''  (which  they  pronounce  Yee)  and 
**  Nay,''  instead  of  "  Yes"  and  "  No !» 

Notwithstanding  their  apparent  cheerfulness  an  '  con- 
tentment, not  one  that  I  saw  seemed  to  be  comi  letely 
healthy.    They  had  a  singularly  dry,  starved,  hungry  lon& 


TBAVELS   AT   HOMX.  33fi 

ly  look,  which — if  it  be  the  result  of  their  celibate  creed — 
is  a  sufficient  comment  upon  it.  That  grace  and  mellow 
ripeness  of  age  which  is  so  beautiful  and  so  attractive  in  the 
patriarch  of  an  abundant  family,  was  wholly  wanting.  No 
sweet  breath  of  house-warms  their  barren  chambers.  The 
fancied  purity  of  their  lives  is  like  the  vacuum  of  an  ex- 
hausted receiver,  whence  all  noxious  vapor  may  be  extmct- 
ed,  but  the  vital  air  with  it.  The  purest  life  is  that  of  the 
wedded  man  and  woman — ^the  best  of  Christians  are  the 
fathers  and  mothers. 


It  is  a  fact  that  most  of  our  railroad  lines  avoid  the  best 
scenery  of  the  .United  States.  With  the  exception  of  a 
portion  of  the  New  York  and  Erie,  the  Hudson  River, 
Pennsylvania  Central,  and  Baltimore  and  Ohio,  I  cannot 
now  recall  any  road  which  affords  fair  pictures  of  the  region 
it  traverses.  This  is  especially  the  case  with  the  main  artery 
of  Massachusetts.  No  one,  flying  through  Berkshire  on  a 
Western  Railroad  train,  can  perceive  more  than  one-third 
of  its  actual  beauty.  Going  eastward,  on  our  way  to  Bos- 
ton, we  had  some  pleasant  glimpses  among  the  narrow  dells 
of  the  Berkshire  Hills,  but  the  valley  of  the  Connecticut 
in  reality  so  lovely,  presents  but  a  tame  appearance.  Tht 
charm  of  Springfield — its  semi-circular  sweep  of  suburbap 
villas— is  invisible,  and  Mount  Holyoke  shows  but  a  low 
blue,  triangular  mass  in  the  north. 

To  one  fresh  from  the  exquisite  pastoral  scenery  of  Penn 
gylvania,  so  like  mid-England  in  its  smooth  fields,  its  hedge 
rows,  and  magnificent  trees,  the  country  between  Spring 


336  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

field  and  Boston  seems  exceedingly  bleak  and  sterile.  ITit 
rocky,  gravelly  soil,  the  gloomy  woods  of  fir  and  pine,  oi 
dwarfish  deciduous  trees,  the  clap-board  villages,  hinting 
of  a  new  Western  State  rather  than  of  one  of  the  mothers 
of  the  Republic,  must  disappoint,  I  fancy,  those  who  visit 
New  England  for  the  first  time.  At  least,  this  was  the  case 
with  my  friends.  "  Can  this  be  Massachusetts — this  barren 
region,  where  it  seems  impossible  for  a  farmer,  with  all  his 
industry,  to  do  more  than  barely  live  ?''  "  Think  a  mo- 
ment," I  answered,  "  and  you  will  pei'haps  remember  thai 
you  have  never  heard  the  soil  of  Massachusetts  praised,  but 
her  laws,  her  school  system,  her  morals,  and  her  men  I" 
These  it  is  that  have  made  her  what  she  is,  while  Virginia, 
favored  of  Heaven  in  regard  to  soil  and  climate,  has  become 
the  degenerate  Spain  of  our  Republic. 

Naturally,  the  eastern  portion  of  Massachusetts,  with  the 
exception  of  the  region  about  Wachuset,  and  some  points 
on  the  sea-coast,  is  neither  beautiful  nor  picturesque.  It  is 
n»t  only  rough,  with  an  indifferent  vegetable  development, 
but  monotonous  in  its  forms.  The  numerous  lakes — or 
ponds,  as  they  are  prosaically  called — constitute  a  redeem- 
ing feature.  It  is  astonishing  how  the  gleam  of  water 
brightens  the  commonest  landscape.  Here,  however,  where 
Nature  has  done  comparatively  little,  Man  has  done  a  great 
deal-  As  you  approach  Boston  the  roughest  region  is  yet 
a  region  of  homes.  The  granite  boulders,  so  unsightly  in 
a  field  of  grain,  become  ornaments  when  breaking  the 
smooth  turf  of  a  lawn ;  the  scrubby  pines,  trimmed  and 
cared  for,  shoot  into  beautiful  trees,  and  one  elm,  growing 
and  expanding  in  the  symmetry  wh'oh  freedom  gives,  is  the 


TEAVELS   AT   HOME.  887 

glory  of  an  entire  landscape.  Man  may  sometimes  deform, 
but  he  oftenest  improves  Nature :  it  is  mere  cant  to  assert 
the  contrary.   And  I  know  no  better  illustration  of  the  fact 

ban  the  environs  of  Boston. 
As  we  flashed  past  the  quaint  wooden  cottages  of  New 

fn  and  Brighton,  my  friend  asked :  "  Are  those  house 

eally  meant  for  dwellings  ?  They  seem  to  me  too  sportivt 
and  toy-like,  as  if  somebody  bad  been  playing  at  village, 
making,  patting  down  a  houi£  here  and  a  house  there,  to 
see  how  \t  would  look  best.''  This  playful  character  of  the 
villages  neie/  struck  me  before^  but  it  is  one  which  would 
naturally  pre^kjait  itself  to  an  ey«  accustomed  to  the  solid, 
matter-of-^ct,  ualovely  aspect  of  Ihe  country-towns  of  Eu- 
rope. The  nts  in  urbe  is  a  thing  never  seen  in  the  Old 
World,  unless,  rarely,  in  England  We  are  too  used  to 
villages,  where  evei-y  house  has  its  gtiw-Jen  and  its  threshold- 
%rees,  to  appreciate  their  novelty  and  freshness  in  a  stran- 
ger's eyes. 

The  approach  to  Boston  is  almost  the  only  picturesque 
city-view  we  have  on  the  Atlantic  Coast.  The  broad  reach- 
es of  water,  the  cheerful  suburbs  on  either  hand,  the  long, 
gently-rising,  brick  hill  in  front,  crowned  with  the  yellow 
dome  of  the  State-House,  when  seen  in  the  tempered  even- 
ing light,  under  a  cloudless  sky,  form  an  imposing  and  truly 
attractive  picture.  New  York,  from  the  bay,  suggests  com 
mercial  activity  only ;  Philadelphia,  from  the  Delaware,  i 
the  tamest  of  cities;  but  Boston,  from  any  side,  owing  to 
her  elevation,  has  a  stately  charm  which  her  prouder  sisters 
do  not  possess. 

A  Boston  Sunday,  in  Wintei-,  is  a  day  of  sack-cloth  and 


838  AT   HOME   A.ND   ABROAD. 

ashes.  A  foreigner  would  suppose  there  was  weekly  &8t 
ing  and  prayer  for  some  great  national  calamity.  Instead 
of  an  expression  of  thankfulness  for  rest,  of  joy  in  the 
-elaxation  from  toil,  of  happy  because  spontaneous  devo 
tion,  the  city  wears  a  grim,  sullen,  funereal  aspect,  as  if 
nndergoing  the  Sabbath  perforce,  but  with  a  strong  silent 
protest.  In  the  bright  summer  weather  of  July,  however, 
the  painful  precision  of  the  day  was  considerably  relaxed, 
and  the  faces  of  the  multitude  exhibited  a  profane  expres- 
sion of  cheerfulness.  In  the  afternoon,  piloted  by  two  poets, 
we  drove  up  and  down,  through  and  around,  the  enchant- 
ing southern  suburbs.  The  filling  up  of  Back  Bay — a 
municipal  work,  second  in  magnitude  only  to  the  raising  of 
the  city  of  Chicago  above  its  original  level — first  claimed 
our  attention.  The  Boston  of  the  next  half-century  will 
cover  the  spacious  plain  thus  created.  Incipient  streets 
already  branch  out  from  the  bottom  of  the  Common,  and 
stately  stone  dwellings,  in  Louis  Quatorze  style,  are  spring- 
ing up  with  magical  rapidity.  The  extension  of  Beacon 
street  is  the  beginning  of  a  Boston  Fifth  Avenue,  of  which 
the  city  is  not  a  little  proud. 

In  her  southern  suburbs,  however — ^in  Roxbury,  and  the 
hills  beyond,  and  princely  Brookline,  and  Brighton,  Boston 
may  challenge  comparison  with  almost  any  city  in  the 
world.  This  undulating  region,  dotted  with  crystal  pondfi, 
Buperbly  wooded,  and  covered  for  miles  with  country-seats 
m  every  conceivable  style  of  architecture,  from  the  once- 
prevalent  Grecian  temple  to  the  now-fashionable  mansard- 
roof,  is  a  portfolio  crammed  with  delicious  pictures.  The 
velvet  turf,  golden-green  in  sunshine,  the  trim  baoktbom 


TBAVELS    AT   HOICB.  339 

hedges,  the  trellised  roses,  the  commingling  of  pine,  elm, 
maple,  larch,  chestnut,  and  fir  in  the  groves,  the  unexpected 
dells  and  water-glimpses,  the  gleam  of  towers  and  mellow- 
tinted  house-fronts  far  and  near,  the  old  avenues,  ribbed 
witli  Gothic  boughs,  are  among  their  features,  and  you  can 
scarcely  say  that  any  thing  is  wanting.  Many  of  the  houses 
il  is  true,  are  too  much  buried  from  the  sun  and  air,  to  be 
healthy  residences  ;  but  they  are  none  the  less  beautiful  on 
that  account.  The  New  Yorkers  spread  their  country  resi- 
dences over  Staten  Island,  along  the  shores  of  the  Sound, 
and  half-way  up  the  Hudson,  beautifying  a  great  extent  of 
territory,  while  the  Bostonians,  by  crowding  theirs  together, 
have  produced  a  smaller,  but  nearly  perfect  region  of  land- 
scape gardening ;  for,  where  so  much  is  beautiful,  the  occa* 
sional  anomalies  and  grotesqueries  of  taste  fail  to  oflEend  you. 

The  general  impression  which  Boston  and  its  environs 
made  upon  my  friends  was  that  of  substantial  prosperity 
and  comfort.  They  also  noticed  its  prim,  proper  English 
air,  so  strongly  contrasted  with  the  semi-Parisian  vivacity 
of  New  York.  Boston,  iu  fact,  prides  itself  on  its  Deport- 
ment :  it  is  nothing  if  not  proper.  All  the  ridicule  which 
other  cities  are  in  the  habit  of  heaping  upon  it  does  not 
seem  to  disturb  its  equanimity  in  the  least.  I  do  not  remem- 
mer  to  have  seen  the  Boston  papers  greatly  enraged  by  any 
hostile  assertion,  except  that  the  harbor  sometimes  freezes 
over :  then^  they  cry  out  in  indignant  wrath. 

I  must  say,  I  rather  admire  this  stolid  self-reliance  and 
Novaiiglican  assumption— if  for  nothing  else,  at  least  because 
it  shows  a  thicker  cuticle  than  we  excitable  New-Yorkers 
possess,  whose  nerves  are  exposed  to  the  atmosphere,  or 


340  AX  HOMB  A^D  ABBOAD. 

that  of  the  morbidly  sensitive  Philadelphians,  who  ransacV 
the  Union  for  derogatory  remarks,  and  exalt  one  horn 
while  depressing  the  other  to  gore  all  who  doubt  their 
greatness.  The  genuine  Bostonian  is  the  most  complacent 
of  mortals.  With  his  clean  shirt  on,  and  his  umbrella  under 
his  arm,  he  sits  upon  his  pedestal  of  Quincy  granite,  and 
reads  his  mild,  unexceptionable  newspaper.  He  believes  in 
Judge  Stoiy  and  Daniel  Webster,  reads  the  poems  of  Han- 
nah Gould  and  George  Ltint,  votes  for  Bell  and  Everett, 
and  hopes  that  he  will  go  to  Paris  when  he  dies. 

With  me,  however,  who  have  been  knocked  about  tho 
world  too  much  to  have  any  special  veneration  for  any  par- 
ticular class  of  men,  excessive  propriety  is  always  a  suspi- 
cious circumstance.  I  would  sooner  trust  the  ragged  Chris- 
tian who  sits  in  the  hindmost  pew,  than  the  smoothly-shaven 
deacon  who  leads  the  hymn,  I  have  sometimes  wondered 
whether  all  the  Bostonians  postpone  their  Parisian  delights 
until  after  death.  Is  there  nothing  volcanic  under  this  cold 
lava?  No  indulgence  in  impropiieties,  all  the  more  attrac- 
tive, because  secret  ?  My  friend  related  to  me  this  morn- 
ing an  experience  which  he  had  innocently  made.  "  What 
a  curious  city  this  is !"  he  exclaimed ;  "  last  night,  while  I 
was  walking  out  alone,  it  occurred  to  me  that  a  glass  of 
beer  would  be  a  good  thing  for  ray  thirst.*.  So  I  looked 
here,  and  looked  there,  going  through  many  streets,  but 
every  house  was  closed :  only  the  churches  were  open.  At 
»ftst  1  stopped  a  man  in  the  street,  and  said  to  him,  in  my 
imperfect  English :  '  Is  it  possible  that  in  this  great  city  I 
fannot  get  one  small  glass  of  beer?'  'Hush!'  said  the  man, 
oome  with  me  and  I'll  show  you.'     So  we  went  througk 


TBAYELS   AT   HOICB.  841 

many  streets,  until  he  stopped  at  a  little  dark  door,  and  said 
*  go  np.'  Then  he  went  away.  I  went  up  one  flight  of 
stairs :  it  was  dark.  Then  I  went  up  another  flight,  auo 
saw  a  lighted  glass  door  with  the  word  '  Serenitt  '  upon 
't.  Inside  were  many  men,  drinking  beer.  I  also  drank  a 
glass,  but  I  was  obliged  to  pay  double  price  for  it,  and  th« 
beer  was  very  bad." 

I  laughed  heartily  at  my  friend's  adventure,  the  explana 
tion  of  which  led  me  into  a  statement  of  the  various  phases 
of  the  Temperance  reform.  In  Germany,  where  a  Liquor 
Law  would  be  not  only  an  impossibility,  but  an  incredibility, 
such  clandestine  dodges  are  unknown,  and  I  am  afraid  my 
friend's  respect  for  the  administration  of  the  laws  in  this 
country  was  somewhat  lessened. 


8» — ^Thb  Saco  Vallkt. 

There  are  two  routes  of  travel  from  Boston  to  the 
White  Mountains — ^the  eastern,  by  way  of  Lake  Winnipi- 
seogee  and  the  Saco  Valley,  and  the  western,  up  the  Con 
necticut  River  to  Littleton,  and  thence  up  the  valley  of  the 
Ammonoosuc.  The  former,  which  we  chose,  is  again  sub- 
divided into  two  branches — one,  via  Manchester  and  Con- 
cord to  Wier's,  on  Lake  Win nipise ogee,  and  thence  by 
Centre  Harbor  to  Conway,  and  the  other,  via  Lawrence, 
Dover,  and  the  Cocheco  Railroad  to  Alton  Bay,  at  the 
lower  extremity  of  the  lake.  We  preferred  the  latter  of 
these  branches,  as  afibrding  us   the  greater  quantity  of 


342  AT   HOME   ANU   ABBOAD. 

lake  travel :  those  who  prefer  haste  to  scenery  take  th« 
former. 

T  noticed  one  change  for  the  better  on  the  Boston  an 
Maine  road — that  of  the  introduction  of  a  comfortable 
smoking-car.  I  think  I  should  appreciate  this  if  I  were  not 
a  consumer  of  the  delectable  weed :  but  as  I  know  from 
experience  how  the  dreary  time  we  spend  in  railroad-oars  it 
beguiled  by  that 

"Slind  nymph  to  Bacchus  bom 
By  Morpheus'  daughter,  she  that  seems 
Gifted  upon  her  natal  morn 
By  him  with  fire,  by  her  with  dreams," 

I  think  the  Company  has  done  a  commendable  thing.  Any- 
thing that  contributes  to  the  comfort  of  the  public  (and  the 
public  will  smoke,  oh  ye  Reformers !)  deserves  to  be  praised, 
and  I  therefoi'e  praise  it.  There  is  one  thing  more  needed 
— a  Spitting,  or  rather,  Chewing  Car.  I  fancy  that  most 
ladies,  delicate  as  their  nerves  may  be,  would  rather  sit  in 
a  smoky  atmosphere  than  have  their  dresses  dabbled  in  the 
liquid  filth  which  the  Chewer  is  at  liberty  to  disgorge  every- 
where. In  Boston  you  are  fined  two  dollars  for  smoking 
in  the  streets  (or  would  be  if  the  law  were  enforced),  but 
you  may  spit  to  your  heart's  content.  The  genuine  smoker 
does  not  spit :  he  offers  only  the  rarest  and  most  fragrant 
incense  to  his  god ;  and  why  his  coarser  brother  should  be 
tolerated  and  he  proscribed,  is  what  I  cannot  understand. 

A  smart  shower  on  Monday  night  had  laid  the  dust :  the 
air  was, like  fluid  diamond,  and  the  forests  sparkled  and 
gleamed  as  if  newly  varnished.    We  flew  past  Lawrence, 


TRAVELS   AT   HOME.  34J 

noticed  the  melancholy  site  of  the  Pemberton  Mills,  admired 
the  cerulean  blue  of  the  Merrimack  at  Haverhill,  found  the 
further  scenery  tame,  and  in  the  course  of  time  reached 
Dover. 

The  Cocheco  Road  passes  through  a  wild,  sterile,  and  alto- 
gether uninviting  region,  but  it  is  only  twenty-eight  miles 
long,  and  in  a  little  over  an  hour  we  embarked  on  the 
steamer  Dover  at  the  lower  extremity  of  Lake  Winnipi- 
seogee.  Alton  Bay  is  a  long,  narrow  inlet  between  wooded 
hills.  The  dark-blue  waves  danced  under  a  strong  northern 
breeze,  but  our  staunch  little  steamer  swiftly  parted  them 
and  brought  us  into  the  open  water,  whence  we  saw  far  to 
the  north,  the  blue  outposts  of  the  White  Hills.  The 
shores  of  the  Lake  are  rough  and  wild,  but  rendered  very 
picturesque  by  the  multitude  of  coves,  inlets,  and  islands. 
Winnipiseogee  is  an  almost  exact  reproduction  of  some  of 
the  Scandinavian  Lakes — the  Tindso,  in  Tellemark,  or  the 
Malar,  in  Sweden,  for  instance.  Its  atmosphere  is  quite  as 
northern,  notwithstanding  it  lies  fifteen  degrees  further 
south.  On  other  days  it  may  present  warmer  tints  and 
softer  outlines,  but  with  such  a  keen,  bracing  wind,  under 
a  July  sun,  my  experiences  three  summers  ago  came  vividly 
to  my  mind,  and  I  almost  fancied  myself  again  in  Norway. 

We  did  not  see  the  whole  of  the  Lake,  owing  to  a  slight 
misunderstanding  of  mine,  which,  after  all,  turned  out  for 
the  best.  This  route  again,  I  had  discovered,  is  subdi- 
vided ;  there  being  rival  stage-lines  from  Wolfborough  and 
Centre  Harbor  to  Conway.  Supposing  Wolfborough  to 
oe  at  the  north-eastern  corner  of  the  lake,  instead  of  the 
tfouth-eastem,  as  it  really  is,  and  learning  that  the  stages 


344  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

thence  reached  Conway  in  advance  of  these  from  Centre 
Harbor,  I  left  the  boat  at  the  former  place,  and  therefore 
missed  seeing  as  I  had  intended,  the  upper  portion  of  the 
lake.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  I  gained  the  pleasantest 
stage  route  and  the  best  approach  to  the  mountains,  so 
that,  on  the  whole,  the  balance  was  rather  in  our  favor. 

After  climbing  the  hill  before  reaching  Ossipee,  we  had 
our  last  and  loveliest  view  of  Winnipiseogee,  lying  in 
many  a  strip  of  dim  silver  among  the  blue  hills.  A  mile 
further,  on  the  ridge  of  the  Tuftonborough  Hills,  a  noble 
panorama  awaited  us.  In  front— great  tracts  of  forest, 
broken  in  upon  here  and  there  by  roughly-cleared  farms — 
lay  the  valley  of  the  Saco,  while  in  the  north-west  rose  the 
White  Mountains,  shoeing  each  separate  peak  distinctly  in 
the  clear  air.  Chocorua,  with  his  pyramid  of  rock,  on  the 
right,  and  peaked  Kearsarge  on  the  left,  stood  in  advance, 
like  sentinels  at  the  entrance  of  the  deep,  dim  valley,  whose 
walls  of  increasing  elevation  seemed  buttresses,  resting 
against  the  shoulders  of  Mount  Washington,  the  central 
dome-shaped  monarch  of  the  group.  Light  clouds  were 
hovering  in  the  sky,  but  above  the  mountains,  and  belts  of 
cold  shadow  across  the  middle  distance  heightened  the 
sunny  warmth  of  the  foreground. 

Thenceforward,  we  overlooked  the  stony  soil  and  the 
shabby  farms.  We  had  entered  artist-land,  and  even  when 
he  forests  narrowed  our  prospect,  we  only  saw  the  pictu- 
esque  in  mossy  rocks  and  twisted  trees.  As  we  approached 
«,he  Saco,  after  passing  Six-Mile  Pond,  much  of  the  scenery 
consisted  of  remembrances  of  New  York  studios.  Everji 
foreground  was  made  up  of  sketches  ly  Shattuck,  Cole 


TBAYBLS  Al    HOMB.  34£ 

man,  and  the  younger  painters:  every  background  wsa 
a  complete  picture  by  Kensett.  I  watched  the  shifting 
quadruple  peaks  of  Chocorua  with  a  peculiar  personal 
interest.  Gradually  they  assumed  the  familiar  position : 
the  crest  of  sheer  lock  gleamed  with  a  faint  red  in  the  sun 
that  lay  so  warm  upon  the  hills— yes,  there  is  my  Choco- 
rua! And  really,  at  this  distance,  he  towers  not  more 
grandly  in  the  afternoon  light  than  on  those  four  feet  of 
canvass,  in  my  room  at  home,  "  where  it  is  always  afternoon." 

I  do  not  think  any  approach  to  the  White  Mountains 
can  be  more  beautiful  than  that  of  the  Saco  Valley.  You 
are  carried  so  gently  and  with  such  sweetly  prolonged  sur- 
prises, into  their  heart, — touched  first,  as  it  were,  with 
their  outstretched  fingers,  held  awhile  in  their  arms,  and 
finally  taken  to  their  bosom.  Their  beauty  wins  before 
their  sublimity  awes  you.  On  such  an  evening,  with  the 
depth  of  color  increasing  as  the  light  fades,  bars  of  alter- 
nate gold  and  violet  flung  from  summits  and  through 
lateral  gorges  across  the  valley,  and  blue  glimpses  of  stream 
or  lake  interrupting  the  rich,  uniform  green,  every  turn 
)f  the  road  gives  you  a  new  delight,  every  minute  of  the 
fleeting  time  is  more  precious  than  the  last. 

Now,  wherein  is  this  scenery  inferior  to  that  of  the 
Scotch  Highlands,  or  the  Lower  Alps,  or  the  Jura  ?  In 
no  respect,  to  my  eyes,  but  rather  finer  in  its  forms  and 
combinations.  To  be  sure,  it  lacks  the  magic  of  old 
associations ;  but  this — if  it  be  a  defect — is  one  which  is 
3oon  forgotten.  The  principal  difference  is  one  which 
applies  to  almost  all  American  scenery.  Virgin  nature  hag 
a  complete  charm  of  its  own ;  so  has  nature  under  subjeo 


346  AT   HOMB   AND   ABBOAD. 

tion,  cultivated,  enriched,  ^ni«Ae<?  as  a  dwelling-place  foi 
man :  but  that  transition  state,  which  is  neither  one  thing 
nor  the  other,  gives  an  unsatisfactory  impression  in  the 
midst  of  our  highest  enjoyment.  Imagine  the  intervales 
of  the  Saco  under  thorough  culture,  the  grassfields  thick 
and  smooth,  the  grain  heavy,  not  a  stump  to  be  seen,  the 
trees  developed  in  their  proper  forms,  fair  pastures  on  the 
hillsides,  shepherds'  cottages  high  up  on  the  mountains, 
thrifty  villages,  farm-houses  and  summer  villas  scattered 
over  the  landscape,  and  what  is  left  for  the  eye  to  crave  ? 
But  take  it  now,  with  its  frequent  unsightly  clearings,  its 
fields  dotted  with  ugly  stumps,  and  the  many  single  trees 
which,  growing  up  spindly  in  the  midst  of  others,  are  now 
left  standing  alone,  robbed  of  their  characteristic  forms, 
and  you  will  readily  see  that  here  are  discordant  elements 
in  the  landscape.  It  is  not  always  the  absolute  superiority 
of  Nature  which  we  recognize ;  we  are  influenced  by  these 
indirect  impressions,  and  they  are  not  to  be  reasoned  away. 

Yet,  during  the  last  stage  of  our  ride  some  perfect 
pictures  were  presented  to  us.  Mote  Mountain,  beyond 
the  Saco,  lifted  a  huge  mass  of  blue  shadow  into  the  sky ; 
Kearsarge  was  tipped  with  yellow  light,  and,  in  front, 
high  over  the  valley,  Mount  Washington  shone  in  splendid 
[)urple.  Occasional  gaps  through  the  trees  gave  us  limited 
views,  where  every  feature  was  fair  and  harmonious.  One 
farm  in  particular,  with  its  white  house,  high  on  a  ledge  of 
Mote  Mountain,  where  the  sunset  still  lingered,  came  again 
and  again  to  sight,  thrown  so  far  off  by  the  bro^vn  sha- 
dows around  us  that  it  seemed  a  fairy  picture  in  the  air. 

At  dusk  we  reached  North  Conway,  and  found  lodgings 


TBAYBt.S   AT  HOMS.  $49 

ftt  the  Kearsarge  House — ^a  tall  shaky  building,  crammed 
with  visitors.  We  were  lucKy,  iu  fact,  in  finding  quarters 
at  all.  Hundreds  are  turned  away  during  the  season. 
But  as  the  landlord  says,  when  people  complain  of  hii 
neglecting  to  enlarge  his  bounds:  "I  have  a  right  to 
complain  that  you  don't  patronize  me  for  eight  months  of 
the  year."  Splendor,  so  temporary  in  its  uses,  mil  not 
pay.  We  found  everything  clean  and  convenient,  and 
were  well  satisfied. 


When  I  awoke  this  morning  the  rain  was  beating  an 
accompaniment  to  my  dreams  upon  the  balcony  roof, 
the  wind  was  roaring  in  the  woods,  and  low  masses  of 
cloud  were  driving  over  the  gateway  of  The  Notch.  It 
was  a  genuine  mountain  storm  which  had  come  upon  ns, 
and  threatened  to  confine  us  within  doors  during  the  day 
— a  prospect  whereat  I  heartily  rejoiced.  If  there  is  any- 
thing which  fills  me  with  a  comfortable  feeling  of  happi- 
ness— which  makes  me  at  peace  with  all  mankind,  and  bids 
me  see  only  the  bright  side  of  life,  it  is  a  rain-storm  among 
the  mountains.  It  has  become  a  conventionalism  to  speak 
of  the  dreariness  of  a  rainy  day  in  the  country :  for  my 
part,  I  know  nothing  more  beautiful,  except  sunshine,  and 
that  is  generally  less  cheerful.  While  a  rain  is  gathering — 
while  the  atmosphere  is  heavy,  portentous,  congested  (to 
boiTow  a  medical  word,  which  expresses  the  feeling  better 
than  any  other),  I  am  plunged  into  the  lowest  depth  of 
despair,  but  I  begin  to  mount,  with  the  first  drop ;  and 
when  the  trees  bend,  and   tarn  the  under  side  of  theii 


348  AT   HOMi:  AND  ABBOAD. 

leaves  to  the  gale,  and  the  hills  are  blotted  out  with  rain^ 
and  the  roof  becomes  a  resonant  sounding-board,  whereon 
"ie«  GavUtes  d''Eav?'*  is  played  with  a  delicate  grace 
beyond  the  reach  of  Liszt  or  Chopin — then,  I  revel  in  an 
Olympian  buoyancy  of  spirits,  and  the  lost  sun  of  the  outer 
rises  on  my  inner  world. 

So  I  sat  down  to  write,  feeling  sure  that  a  whole  day  of 
quiet  comfort  was  before  me ;  but  scarcely  had  I  written 
six  pages  before  the  clouds  broke,  the  rain  ceased,  and  the 
sun  began  to  give  glimpses  of  his  face.  The  mountains 
came  out  bright  and  green,  the  bears  rose,  shook  oflf  their 
wet,  and  stood  on  their  hind  legs ;  the  band  played  adieux 
to  departing  stages,  and  all  the  distractions  of  good  wea- 
ther thrust  themselves  between  brain  and  paper.  It  was 
no  use  to  try:  I  must  be  up  and  away.  The  air  called, 
the  sun  called ;  the  trees,  waterfalls,  and  distant  blue 
peaks  sent  their  voices  up  to  ray  window.  Conscience 
(literary,  only)  was  silenced ;  duty  was  a  bore :  "  I  did 
not  come  to  write,"  I  said  to  myself,  and  out  we  went 
into  the  woods, 

"  Ab  smibeams  stream  through  liberal  space. 
And  nothing  jostle  or  displace, 
So  waved  the  pine-tree  through  my  thought, 
And  fiumed  the  dreams  it  never  brought" 

But  now,  while  the  stars  are  sparkling  over  the  hills,  and 
the  dancers  are  dancing  in  tune  in  the  great  saloon,  to  the 
soimd  of  the  horn  and  bassoon,  and  the  crowd  of  guestfi 
are  "  going  on  "  precisely  as  if  there  were  no  raountaina 
about  them,  and  no  Mount  Washington  to  be  ascended  on 


TRAVELS   AT  HOME.  840 

the  morrow,  let  me  pick  up  the  thread  dropped  this  mom 
mg,  and  resume  our  travels. 

The  moniing,  at  North  Conway,  was  so  wonderfullj 
clear,  that  I  immediately  predicted  a  storm.  Mount  Wash- 
ngton  seemed  near  at  hand  ;  even  the  bridle  path  on  the 
outhern  side  was  visible.  The  eclipse  came  off,  according 
to  contract,  but  so  brilliant  was  the  day  that  I  should  not 
have  noticed  it  but  for  the  peculiar  shadows  cast  by  the 
trees.  We  resisted  the  temptation  to  climb  Kearsarge, 
having  too  much  before  us,  to  exhaust  each  locality.  So 
much  the  better :  we  can  come  back  again,  and  still  have 
something  in  store.  The  stage  for  Crawford's  went  off, 
packed  with  tourists,  and,  to  our  cost,  we  engaged  a  special 
team  to  take  us  thither  in  the  afternoon.  The  price 
demanded,  and  of  course  paid  (for  there  was  no  resource), 
was  eighteen  dollars  for  an  open  two-horse  wagon,  to  con- 
vey us  twenty-five  miles.  This  is  rather  ahead  of  Illinois, 
and  about  equal  to  California.  But  there  was  some  sense 
in  the  landlord*s  remark  :  "  I  have  to  keep  fifty  horses  all 
winter  at  a  heavy  expense,  in  order  to  supply  travellers  for 
three  or  four  months  in  the  summer,  and  they  must  pay  for 
it."  Certainly,  a  lumbering  Concord  coach,  with  nine 
inside,  is  no  place  whence  to  behold  White  Mountain 
scenery,  and  we  were  speedily  reconciled  to  the  double 
fare. 

The  road  follows  the  valley  of  the  Saco,  rising  from 
North  Conway,  which  is  six  hundred  feet  to  the  source  of 
the  river,  at  Crawford's,  two  thousand  feet  above  the  sea- 
level.  At  first,  the  valley  is  broad,  and  the  farms  frequent 
After  passing  Bartlett's  Comer,  where  Ellis  River  comei 


350  AT  HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

down  from  the  right,  and  a  stage  road  branches  off  tc 
Pinkliam  Notch  and  the  Glen  House,  we  drove  for  eight 
or  ten  miles  in  a  western  direction,  between  still  loftier 
mountains.  Here  the  soil  appeared  kinder,  and  the  rough 
shanties,  whence  issued,  at  our  approach,  little  girls  with 
birchen  boxes  of  raspberries,  ceased.  "  If  the  road  were 
macadamized,"  said  my  friend,  "  and  a  few  cataracts  poured 
down  the  ledge,  it  would  be  very  much  like  (iuldbrands- 
dal,  in  Norway."  New-Hampshire,  in  fact,  is  Norway, 
with  a  somewhat  richer  vegetation. 

At  the  Upper  Bartlett  House  we  were  gratified  with  the 
sight  of  some  trout,  in  a  spring.  We  had  tried,  in  vain, 
to  procure  trout  at  the  hotels.  At  breakfast  there  were 
some  on  the  table,  but  fried  in  such  a  manner  that  their 
peculiar  flavor  was  unrecognizable.  What  more  easy  than 
artificial  trout-breeding  in  these  clear  mountain  streams  ? 
And  what  more  remunerative  than  trout  (charged  extra  in 
the  bill)  to  the  keepers  of  these  mountain  hotels  ? 

Turning  North  again,  we  took  a  last  view  of  Kearsarge, 
down  the  glorious  valley,  and  pushed  forward  into  wilder 
regions.  The  highest  peaks  on  either  hand  reached  a 
height  of  five  thousand  feet,  the  bed  of  the  valley  became 
contracted,  and  the  Old  Crawford  House,  now  closed, 
seemed  to  be  the  last  outpost  of  civilization  in  this  direo- 
tiou.  We  were  never  weary  of  noting  the  bold,  beautiful 
sweep  of  the  mountain  sides,  clothed  to  their  very  summits 
with  as  thick  and  green  a  foliage  as  the  tropical  hills  of 
Mexico.  I  had  anticipated  landscapes  of  a  wilder  and 
rougher  cast.  Here,  however,  for  several  miles,  we  drove 
through  forests  which  arched  above  the  road,  and  shut  on/ 


TBAVKLS   AT   HOMS.  351 

ill  view — ^not  only  woods  of  fir,  oak,  and  beech,  but  the 
beautiful  birch,  with  its  slender  milk-white  stern,  while  the 
ground  is  covered  with  giant  ferns,  as  large  and  as  beau 
tiful  as  the  pandanus  and  the  sago-palm  of  the  Pacific 
ales.  The  size  and  beauty  of  the  birches  caused  us  for  a 
time  to  forget  the  mountains  altogether.  Straight,  and 
white  as  ivory,  they  shone  through  the  gloom  of  the  ever- 
greens, and  formed  a  fairy  colonnade  far  before  us. 

After  twice  crossing  the  infant  Saco,  the  road  turned  a 
little  to  the  left,  and  we  found  ourselves  between  Mount 
Webster  and  the  Willey  Mountain,  elevations  of  equal 
height,  whose  bases  touch  in  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and 
whose  sides  rise  at  an  average  angle  of  45"*.  The  trees 
which  cling  to  them  are  scant  and  dwarfish,  and  torn  away 
in  long  strips  by  slides  which  start  from  their  very  brows. 
They  appear  to  be  almost  inaccessible,  but  may  be  climbed 
by  a  man  of  strong  nerve  and  solid  muscle.  The  crest  of 
Mount  Webster,  a  long  wall  of  perpendicular  rock,  bright- 
ened by  the  sinking  sun,  towered  over  us,  midway  to  the 
zenith.  The  driver,  of  course,  pointed  out  the  traces  of 
the  fatal  slide  of  1826,  on  Willey  Mountain,  and  presently 
the  house  came  in  sight.  It  it  now  but  an  appendage  to  a 
larger  building  which  has  been  inhabited  (a  sort  of  hotel,  I 
believe)  for  the  past  year  or  two.  The  occupants,  pro- 
ably,  reckon  that  two  slides  will  hardly  be  likely  to  occur 
n  the  same  place. 

Here  commences  The  Notch,  which  is  properly  no  notch, 
but  a  very  deep,  wild  valley,  or  trough,  formed  by  the 
bases  of  the  two  mountains  before  mentioned.  At  its 
head,  overhanging  it  in  an  immense  precipice  of  gray  rook, 


352  AT  HOMB  AND   ABBOAi>. 

and  seeming  to  block  all  egress,  is  Mount  Willard,  a  peal 
more  remarkable  from  its  abruptness  and  its  isolation,  thac 
its  actual  height.  For  two  miles  we  drove  forward  through 
the  woods,  climbing  the  ascending  gorge.  The  topmost 
crags  of  Mount  Webster  were  no  longer  burnished  with 
sunset ;  the  air  aro.und  us  grew  dark  and  cool,  and  the 
Saco  became  a  rill  which  I  could  almost  collect  in  a  bucket. 
A  spruce  rider,  prancing  through  the  woods  on  a  hand 
some  black  horse,  assured  us  that  Crawford's  was  close  at 
hand,  and  obligingly  galloped  ahead  to  engage  rooms  for 
us.  A  few  very  steep  pulls  brought  us  to  a  cleft  between 
immense  masses  of  dark  rock,  leaving  a  space  of  little  mora 
than  twenty  feet  for  the  road  and  stream.  Here,  turning 
back,  we  saw  The  Notch,  looming  huge  and  awful  through 
the  blue  vapors  of  twilight — a  grand,  a  truly  Alpine  land- 
scape. 

A  hundred  yards  further,  and  we  emerged  fr^m  the 
Gate  of  the  Notch,  as  it  is  called,  upon  a  little  plateau,  two 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea.  A  black  pond  beside  us,  was 
the  fountain  of  the  Saco.  Lights  glimmered  ahead,  the 
sound  of  music  saluted  us,  and  the  long  fi-ont  of  the  Craw- 
ford House  rose  like  a  palace  in  the  wilderness.  From  the 
balcony  pealed  the  band — with  a  good-will,  if  not  with 
great  artistic  talent ;  a  hundred  well-dressed  gentlemen  and 
ladies  promenaded  along  the  veranda;  gas-lights  flared 
tlirough  the  broad  entrance — in  short,  all  the  evidence 
of  a  first-class  hotel,  "  with  the  latest  improvements," 
saluted  our  delighted  eyes.  Our  bedrooms  were  actually 
lighted  with  gas — and  there  were  bell-pulls — and  some- 
body oame  when  you  pulled — and  what  you  ordered  wm 


TRAVELS   AT   HOMB.  85ft 

brought  to  you !  Nature  is  good,  I  thought,  but  Nature 
in  combination  with  the  latest  improvements  is  best  of  all 
In  the  words  of  a  New  England  poet,  whose  name  I  an? 
Borry  not  to  know : 

"  Give  to  Naiur'  Natur's  doo, 
But  give  to  Art,  more  toa" 

In  the  evening  the  guests  gathered  in  the  grand  saloon, 
about  half  the  size  of  the  Great  Eastern's  deck,  and  there 
were  performances  on  the  piano,  heard  in  becoming  silence, 
and  the  inevitable  hop.  In  this  I  did  not  join,  preferring 
not  to  do  a  thing  at  all  rather  than  to  do  it  badly,  but  the 
rhythm  of  the  dancers'  feet  reached  me  in  bed,  through  all  the 
timbers  of  the  house.  With  the  exception  of  the  hop,  which 
occasioned  a  temporary  unbending  ceremony,  the  company 
appeared  to  me  rather  grave  and  formal.  Those  conven- 
tionalities from  which  we  so  gladly  escape,  penetrate  even 
here.  Immense  trunks  are  unshipped  from  the  stages,  costly 
dresses  appear  in  the  evening,  the  ladies  criticise  each  other 
— in  short,  the  utmost  resistance  is  offered  to  the  levelling 
influence  of  the  mountain  air.  It  is  but  a  shifting  of  location 
— ^not  of  nature.  I  was  impressed  with  a  pleasant  sense  of 
freedom  in  the  evening  when  the  stage  from  Conway  drove 
up,  with  a  company  of  ladies  packed  on  the  very  top,  and  sing- 
ing in  chorus,  with  a  hearty  scorn  of  all  artificial  proprieties. 
To  me,  the  hesitation  to  break  through  rule  occasionally, 
implies  a  doubt  of  one's  own  breeding.  Those  whose 
behavior  is  refined,  from  the  natural  suggestions  of  a  refined 
nature,  are  never  troubled  by  such  misgivings,  and  show 
their  true  gentleness  most  when  most  free  and  unrestrained 


364  AT  HOMK  ANJ>  ABBOAD. 

One  may  ride  to  the  top  of  Mount  Willard  in  an  omm 
bus,  but  it  is  not  a  severe  walk,  even  for  ladies.  In  spite 
of  the  dead,  sultry  heat  of  the  air,  we  found  refreshment  in 
that  steep,  unvarying  line  of  shade,  with  its  mossy  banks, 
starred  with  a  delicate  oxalis^  the  pigmy  cornue,  ground 
pine,  club  moss,  and  harebells.  Nothing  was  to  be  seen, 
so  thick  was  the  forest,  until  we  reached  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  about  3,500  feet  above  the  sea.  Here,  after  two 
or  three  hundred  yards  of  comparative  level,  the  wood 
suddenly  opened,  and  we  found  ourselves  standing  on  the 
very  pinnacle  of  the  great  cliff  which  we  saw  last  night, 
blocking  up  The  Notch. 

The  effect  was  magical.  The  sky  had  in  the  meantime 
partially  cleared,  and  patches  of  sunny  gold  lay  upon  the 
dark  mountains.  Under  our  feet  yawned  the  tremendous 
gulf  of  The  Notch,  roofed  with  belts  of  cloud,  which 
floated  across  from  summit  to  summit  nearly  at  our  level : 
so  that  we  stood,  as  in  the  organ  loft  of  some  grand  cathe- 
dral, looking  down  into  its  dim  nave.  At  the  further  end, 
over  the  fading  lines  of  some  nameless  mountains,  stood 
Chocorua,  purple  with  distance,  terminating  the  majestic 
vista.  It  was  a  picture  which  the  eye  could  take  in  at  one 
glance:  no  landscape  could  be  more  simple  or  more  sub- 
lime. The  noise  of  a  cataract  to  our  right,  high  up  on 
Mount  Willey,  filled  the  air  with  a  far,  sweet,  fluctuating 
niurmur,  but  all  round  us  the  woods  were  still,  the  hare- 
bells bloomed,  and  the  sunshine  lay  warm  upon  the 
granite. 

I  had  never  heard  this  view  particularly  celebrated,  and 
was  therefore  the  more  impressed  by  its  wonderful  beauty 


TKAVBLS   AT  BOMB.  865 

As  a  simple  picture  of  a  mountain-pass,  seen  from  above, 
it  cannot  be  surpassed  in  Switzerland.  Something  like  it  1 
have  seen  in  the  Taurus,  otherwise  I  can  recall  no  view  with 
which  to  compare  it.  A  portion  of  the  effect,  of  course,  de- 
pends on  the  illumination,  but  no  traveller  who  sees  it  on 
ft  day  of  mingled  cloud  and  sunshine  will  be  disappointed. 


4. — The  Ascent  of  Mount  Washinotoji. 

"  You  breakfast  at  seven,  start  at  eight,  and  ride  up  in 
four  hours,"  said  Mr.  Gibb.  Everything  depended  on  the 
weather.  There  had  been  two  glorious  days  for  the  ascent, 
the  beginning  of  the  week,  and  a  third  was  almost  too  much 
to  expect.  At  seven,  the  mountains  in  front  were  covered 
with  heavy  layers  of  cloud,  and  countenances  fell.  T  went 
to  the  back  of  the  house,  and,  seeing  a  low,  arched  gap  of 
1)1  ne  sky  in  the  west,  denoting  a  wind  from  that  quarter, 
confidently  predicted  a  fine  day.  Ladies  prepared  for  the 
ascent  by  taking  off  hoops,  putting  on  woollen  jackets  and 
old  straw  hats  (hired  of  the  porter),  and  gentlemen  by 
adopting  a  rough,  serviceable  rig,  leasing,  if  they  did  not 
Already  possess  one. 

Eight  o'clock  came,  but  the  stages  had  to  leave  first,  each 
accompanied  by  a  pathetic  farewell  from  the  band  in  th 
balcony.  For  half  an  hour  I  had  been  striding  about  in  a 
woollen  leamms,  uncomfortably  warm,  while  the  other  gen- 
tlemen luxuriated  in  horsemen's  boots  :  the  ladies  kept  their 
aollapsed  skirts  out  of  sight  until  the  last  moment.    Finally, 


d56  AT   HOME   ANt>   ABftOAt>. 

Mr.  Gibb,  with  a  list  in  his  hand,  took  his  place,  like  a  ma» 
ter  of  the  ring,  in  the  midst  of  a  whirlpool  of  rough-looking 
horses,  and  the  travellers  mounted,  as  their  names  wer« 
called,  the  beasts  which  he  assigned  to  them,  A  little  con- 
fiision  ensued,  slight  shrieks  were  heard,  saddles  were  adr 
justed,  girths  looked  after,  stirrupleathers  regulated,  and 
then,  falling  into  a  promiscuous  line,  we  defiled  into  the 
bridle-path,  while  the  band  played  "  Away  to  the  mountam 
brow." 

We  might  have  been  a  picturesque,  but  we  were  not  a 
beautiful  company.  The  ladies  resembled  gipsies  on  the 
march,  wearing  the  clothes  they  had  picked  up  on  the  way ! 
the  gentlemen  might  have  been  political  refugees,  just 
arrived  from  Europe,  and  not  yet  received  by  the  Com- 
mon Council  of  New  York.  The  horses  were  intended  by 
nature  for  use  rather  than  ornament,  and  our  two  guides,  in 
fact,  were  the  only  figures  that  were  handsome,  as  well  as 
vastly  useful.  Accustomed  to  walk  up  and  down  Mount 
Washington  (nine  miles  from  Crawford'sto  the  summit)  three 
or  fou*  times  a  week,  they  had  the  true  Zouave  development 
of  muscle.  Tall,  strong,  tireless,  cheerful,  kind-hearted  fel- 
lows, I  looked  on  them  with  pride,  and  wished  that  more 
Americans  were  like  them  in  the  possession  of  such  manly 
qualities.  One  of  the  ladies  of  my  pai'ty  had  never  before 
mounted  a  horse,  and  could  never  have  gotten  through  hoT 
first  lesson  in  so  rough  a  school  without  their  careful  tutor- 
ship. 

Striking  into  the  woods,  Ave  began  immediately  to  ascend, 
gently  at  first,  until  we  had  scaled  the  lower  shelf  of  Mouui 
Clinton,  when  the  ascent  became  more  steep  and  tuilsome 


rSAVSLS  AT  HOMS.  861 

the  road  lias  been  judiciously  laid  out,  and  made  practic» 
ble  with  considerable  labor.  The  marshy  places  are  cordu 
royed  with  small  logs,  and  the  gullies  bridged  in  the  same 
manner,  so  that  you  pass  easily  and  securely.  Indeed, 
nearly  half  the  distance  to  the  summit  of  Mount  Clinton — 
three  miles — has  been  paved  in  this  manner.  The  rains 
have  gradually  worn  the  path  deeper,  and  you  frequently 
ride  between  high,  mossy  banks,  bright  with  flowers.  The 
oak,  birch,  maple,  and  other  deciduous  trees  become  less 
frequent  as  you  ascend,  until  the  forest  consists  entirely  of 
fir.  The  lower  boughs  have  rotted  and  dropped  off,  and  the 
upper  ones  form  a  dark  roof  above  your  head,  while  all  the 
ground  is  covered  with  a  thick  growth  of  immense  ferns. 
A  young  tropical  wood  seems  to  be  springing  up  under  the 
shadow  of  an  Arctic  forest.  Perhaps  this  singular  contrast 
of  forms  (for  the  fern  is  Nature's  first  attempt  at  making  a 
palm-tree)  explains  the  charm  of  this  forest,  wherein  there 
is  no  beauty  in  the  forms  of  the  trees. 

We  rode  on  steadily — delayed  sometimes  by  the  guide's 
being  obliged  to  mend  his  corduroys — for  three  miles,  when 
the  wood,  which  had  been  gradually  becoming  more  ragged 
and  stunted,  came  rather  suddenly  to  an  end,  and  we  found 
ourselves  on  the  summit  of  Mount  Clinton,  4,200  feet  above 
the  sea.  Looking  to  the  northward,  we  saw  before  us  the 
bald,  rounded  top  of  Mount  Pleasant,  about  five  hundred 
feet  higher,  while  beyond,  a  gray  cloud-rack,  scudding 
rapidly  from  west  to  east,  completely  hid  from  view  th 
dome  of  Mount  Washington. 

To  make  our  position  clear,  I  must  give  a  little  geogr» 
phy.    Mount  Washington  is  the  culmination  of  a  connected 


S68  AT  HOMB  AND  ABBOAD. 

series  of  peaks,  which  have  a  general  direction  of  N.  W 
and  S.  E.  Mount  Webster,  which  forms  one  side  of  The 
Notch,  is  the  commencement  of  this  series,  as  you  ascend 
the  Saco  Valley.  Then  follow  Mounts  Jackson,  Clinton 
(which  wehave  just  surmounted),  Pleasant,  Franklin,  Mon- 
roe, and  finally  Washington,  summit  rising  above  summit 
in  Titanic  steps,  from  4,000  until  the  chieftain  attains  the 
crowning  height  of  6,285  feet.  Beyond  Mount  Washing- 
ton are  the  peaks  of  Clay,  Adams,  Jefferson,  and  Madison, 
all  of  which  exceed  5,000  feet  in  height.  The  road  from 
the  Crawford  House,  therefore,  scales  five  mountains  in 
succession  :  it  is  the  longest,  but  by  far  the  most  compen- 
sating road  to  the  top  of  Mount  Washington.  That  from 
the  Glen  House,  at  the  eastern  base  of  the  mountain,  touches 
no  other  peak,  which  is  also  the  case  with  the  road  from 
Fabyan's,  up  the  valley  of  the  Ammonoosuo.  Both  the 
latter,  however,  are  praotioable  for  carriages  about  half  the 
way. 

The  still  heat  we  had  felt  in  the  woodland  path  suddenly 
ceased,  and  a  strong  wind,  chilled  by  the  elevation  of  be- 
tween four  and  five  thousand  feet,  blew  upon  us.  The 
ladies  were  glad  to  use  the  porters'  rough  pea-jackets,  and 
those  who  were  unaccustomed  to  saddles  looked  at  the 
blue  mountain-gulfs  which  yawned  to  the  right  and  left, 
with  an  awful  feeling  of  apprehension.  In  the  rocky  dip 
which  separated  us  from  Mount  Pleasant,  trees  no  longer 
grew :  the  path,  in  many  places,  was  a  steep  rocky  ladder, 
toilsome  both  to  man  and  beast.  Our  sturdy  guides  leaped 
back  and  forth,  supporting  and  encouraging  the  timoroui 
ladies ;  nervous  gentlemen  dismounted  and  led  their  horse* 


TBAYSLS  AT  HOHX.  359 

but  the  lattei  were  as  nimble  and  sure-footed  as  cats,  and 
I  rode  my  "  Sleepy  David"  (so  the  beast  was  properly 
called)  down  and  up  without  fear  or  peril.  On  either  side 
opened  a  mountain  landscape — great  troughs  of  blue  forest 
at  first,  then  dimmer  ranges,  lighter  patches  of  cleared  land 
beyond,  sparkles  of  houses  and  villages,  and  far  waves  o 
urple  mist,  merging  in  the  sky. 

Our  path  did  not  scale  Mount  Pleasant,  but  crept  around 
its  eastern  side,  where  a  few  old  tr6es — ^bushes  in  appear- 
ance— grew,  being  sheltered  somewhat  from  the  nor'west- 
ern  ^Wnds.  Here  my  lady-fiiend,  appalled  by  the  road,  and 
the  perils  of  the  side-saddle,  was  about  to  give  up  the  jour- 
ney, but  having  convinced  her  of  the  greater  security  of  the 
masculine  seat,  we  changed  saddles,  and  thenceforth  all 
went  well  enough.  I  would  advise  all  ladies  who  are  at  all 
nervous,  to  take  a  man's  saddle,  and  ride  as  Catharine  of 
Russia  did.  It  may  not  be  so  graceful,  but  then,  I  hope 
you  don't  go  up  Mount  Washington  to  display  your  own 
points  of  attraction. 

Mount  Franklin  came  next,  and  we  found  him  rougher, 
steeper,  and  more  laborious  than  his  Pleasant  predecessor. 
The  path  goes  directly  up  his  side  to  the  very  summit : 
path,  did  I  say  ? — rather  a  mined  staircase,  with  steps  vary- 
ing from  one  to  three  feet  in  height,  agreeably  diversi^ed  by 
smooth  planes  of  slanting  rock.  It  seemed  impossible  that 
the  horses  should  climb  these  latter  without  slipping,  ye» 
they  all  did  so,  to  an  animal.  At  the  top,  we  had  reachet 
a  height  of  4,900  feet,  without  encountering  a  cloud,  while, 
to  our  joy,  the  hood  of  Mount  Washington  was  visibly 
thinner,  and  shoved  higher  up  on  his  brows. 


360  AT   HOME   AJSD   ABROAD. 

From  Franklin  to  Monroe  the  ridge  is  but  a  sharp  comb 
barely  wide  enough  for  the  bridle-path,  and  falling  sheei 
3own  to  the  wildernesses  of  forest  which  collect  the  watera 
of  the  Saoo  and  the  Ammonoosuc.  This  comb,  in  my  opi- 
nion, commands  a  finer  view  than  that  from  Mount  Wash 
ngtou.  Looking  either  to  the  light  or  left,  the  picture  is 
artly  framed  by  the  vast  concave  sweep  of  the  mountain 
sides ;  below  you,  the  solitude  of  the  pnmeval  forest ; 
beyond,  other  mountains,  broader  valleys,  the  gray  gleam 
of  lakes,  and  the  distant  country,  flattened  into  faint  blue 
waves  by  the  elevation  from  which  yon  behold  it.  All  the 
noted  summits  of  the  "White  Mountain  region  are  here  visi- 
ble, and  Kearsarge,  Chocorua,  and  the  Franconia  Group 
display  themselves  with  fine  efieot.  Your  satisfaction  is  not 
diminished  by  the  presence  of  the  rocky,  cloudy  mass,  which 
still  towers  high  over  you :  you  only  fear  that  its  summit 
will  not  give  you  grander  panoramas  than  those  mirolliri  j^ 
below  you — which  is  the  case. 

**  What  pleasure  lives  in  height  (the  shepherd  sang), 
In  height  and  cold,  the  splendor  of  the  hills?" 

A  great  deal,  certainly.  But  I  imagine  such  pleasure 
springs  not  merely  from  the  sense  of  beauty,  because  aK 
details,  wherein,  mostly.  Beauty  lies,  are  swallowed  up  in 
the  immensity  of  the  airy  picture :  there  is  also  a  lurking, 
flattering  sense  of  power,  which  we  feel,  although  it  may 
;flot  consciously  float  on  the  surface  of  our  emotions.  Wtj 
are  elevated  above  the  earth  :  other  men  and  their  concenia 
are  below  us:  their  stateliest  possessions  are  insigniticatU 
patches,  which  we  look  doM  u  upon  without  respect  or  envy 


TRAVELS   AT   HOMfi.  361 

Our  own  petty  struggles  and  ambitions  fade  away  also  in 
the  far  perspective.  We  stand  on  the  pinnacle  of  the  earth, 
whereof  we  are  lords,  and  above  us  there  is  nothing  but 
God. 

For  this  reason,  a  height  is  not  a  proper  place  for  a  home 
Great  elevations  and  far  prospects  excite  the  intellect  rather 
than  move  the  heart.  No  man  of  loving  nature  would  build 
his  house  upon  a  mountain-peak.  "  Love  is  of  the  valley," 
and  his  chosen  home  is  shut  in  and  sheltered  by  hills  and 
woods,  nestled  in  a  warm  hollow  of  the  earth,  accessible, 
!amiliar,  and  yet  secluded.  One  would  rather  see  his 
aeighbor's  trees  and  fields  near  him,  than  look  from  his 
window  upon  a  hundred  miles  of  blue  earth.  "I  have 
climbed  to  this  summit  vsdth  much  toil,"  says  Herwegh,  in 
one  of  his  poems,  "and  now  the  dust  of  those  streets  where 
I  lived  is  dearer  to  me  than  this  pure,  cold  air,  I  can 
almost  grasp  Heaven  with  my  hands,  and  my  heart  desires 
'■o  be  down  on  the  earth  again."  A  mountain-top  may  be 
i  fine  place  for  lovers,  in  the  spring-time  of  their  betrothal, 
but  when  theii  day  of  exaltation  is  over,  and  the  common 
loves  and  common  cares  of  the  world  approach,  they  will 
i'ome  down  and  settle  contentedly  at  the  base. 

Mount  Monroe  is  a  sharp,  rocky  mass,  riang  abruptly 
I'rom  the  spinal  ridge.  Its  summit  has  an  elevation  of  five 
iliousand  three  hundred  feet.  This,  howev^er,  we  do  not 
tale^  but  climb  around  it  by  a  dangerous-looking  path,  and 
ix\\  ourselves  on  the  ridge  again,  which  here  broadens  out 
and  felopes  upward  to  Mount  Washington.  On  the  left,  in 
a  hv»llow,  about  a  hundred  feet  below  us,  is  the  Lake  of  the 
Clouds,   a  little   pool   of  bluo-black  water,  out  of  which 


362  AT   HOME   AND   ABKOAD. 

r,rickles  the  Aramonoosuc,  highest-born  of  New-England 
rivers,  but  (like  the  scions  of  certain  families)  not  much  of 
a  stream,  after  all.  The  Saco,  of  three  or  four  thousand 
feet  lower  origin,  achieves  a  much  more  conspicuouH 
destiny. 

By  this  time,  every  vestige  of  cloud  had  disappeared,  and 
the  chieftain  summit  rose  before  us  bare,  bleak,  and  cold,  a 
steep,  slightly  conical  mass  of  greenish-gray  rocks,  destitute 
of  a  single  shrub.  Here  and  there  grew  a  tuft  of  brown, 
hardy  grass,  or  a  bunch  of  dwarf,  delicate  white  flowers, 
with  a  sweet  odor  of  May  about  them.  The  strong  wind 
blew  cold  and  keen  from  Canada,  and  there  was  no  longer 
any  shelter — no  higher  peak  in  that  direction,  nearer  than 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  path,  or  rather  stairway,  was 
so  rough  and  laborious,  that  I  dismounted  for  awhile,  to  the 
great  joy  of  my  horse,  and  climbed  until  the  thin  air  failed 
to  supply  my  lungs.  It  was  a  steady  upward  pull  of  half 
an  hour,  before  we  found  the  sharp  crest  flatten  imder  us, 
and  reached  the  fold  of  piled  stones  where  the  horses  are 
left.  The  rest  of  the  company  (twenty-eight  in  all)  had 
already  arrived,  and  some  of  the  gentlemen  were  engaged 
in  mixing  the  waters  of  an  icy  spring  among  the  rooks  with 
the  contents  of  pocket-flasks.  In  such  a  place,  and  under 
such  circumstances,  all — even  the  ladies — partook  of  the 
mixture  without  hesitatiosu  "  The  Maine  Law,  I  suppose, 
is  inoperative  up  here,'*  1  said  to  the  guide.  "Oh,"  he 
replied,  "  no  law  comes  this  high :  we  are  out  of  the  State 
of  New-Hampshire."  If  a  man  should  commit  a  crime  in  a 
balloon,  where  should  he  be  tried  ? 

A  few  steps  further  brought  us  to  the  summit,  which  is  a 


TRAVELS  AT  HOMB.  868 

platform  of  loose  rocks,  containing,  perhaps,  half  an  acre. 
Against  the  loftiest  pile,  in  the  centre,  is  biult  a  long,  lo^ 
hut,  styled  the  "Tip-Top  House."  Having  a  register,  a 
bar,  kitchen,  and  dining-room,  it  may  be  considered  a  hoteL 
A  few  steps  further  is  the  "  Summit  House"  (a  little  below 
the  summit),  where  travellers  can  pass  the  night  in  com- 
fortable bunks,  and  (perhaps)  see  the  sun  rise.  There  is 
one  room  for  ladies  and  one  for  gentlemen,  and  an  ancient 
chambermaid,  who  sleeps  in  the  doorway  between.  A 
magnificent  hotel  is  projected,  with  a  carriage-road  to  the 
very  summit.  The  latter,  I  was  informed,  will  be  com- 
pleted next  year,  but  I  have  my  doubts  about  it.  The 
enterprise,  to  be  sure,  is  not  half  so  great  as  that  of  the 
Simplon  Road,  but  it  could  scarcely  be  remunerative,  while 
there  are  such  excellent  hotels  as  Crawford's  and  the  Glen 
House,  in  more  agreeable  locations. 

One  thing,  however,  is  greatly  needed — ^a  tower  about 
fifty  feet  in  height,  which  will  enable  the  traveller  to  over- 
look the  edges  of  the  rocky  platform  and  take  in  the  whole 
grand  panorama  from  one  point.  Any  of  us  would  have 
gladly  paid  a  handsome  fee  for  such  a  lift.  At  present,  you 
must  climb  over  heaps  of  stone,  from  point  to  point,  to 
catch  the  various  views,  each  of  which  is  superb  of  its  kind, 
but  the  eflfect  would  be  infinitely  sublimed  if  they  could  all 
be  united  in  one  picture.  To  the  south-east  you  have  the 
valley  of  the  Saco,  with  its  sentinels  of  Chocorua  and  Kear- 
sarge ;  to  the  south.  Lake  Wiimipiseogee,  lying  in  its  cradle 
of  purple  hills ;  south-westward,  the  tossing  sea  of  wild, 
wooded,  nameless  peaks,  stretching  away  to  Franconia, 
whose  summits  shut  out  further  horizon;   westward,  the 


364  AT    HOME   AND   ABROAB. 

valley  of  the  Connecticut,  the  Green  Mountains,  with  Maii» 
field  and  Camel's  Hump,  far  and  dim ;  Canadian  wilder- 
nesses on  the  north,  and  the  scattered  lakes  of  Maine — 
glimmering  among  pine-forests  which  seem  the  shadows  of 
clouds — to  the  east.  Earth  and  sky  melt  into  each  other, 
a  hundred  miles  away,  and  the  ocean,  which  is  undoubtedly 
within  the  sphere  of  vision,  is  not  to  be  distinguished  from 
the  ^. 

The  atmosphere,  according  to  the  guides,  was  as  dear  a^ 
it  ever  is,  yet  so  great  were  the  distances,  so  vast  the  spaces 
overlooked,  that  all  the  circle  of  the  landscape,  except  the 
nearer  gorges  of  the  mountains,  appeared  dim  and  hazy. 
The  sense  of  elevation  is  thereby  increased:  you  stand, 
verily,  "  ringed  with  the  azure  world."  I  have  stood  on 
higher  summits  without  feeling  myself  lifted  so  far  above 
the  earth.  This — although  there  are  many  grand  features 
in  the  different  landscapes — ^is  the  predominant  characteristic. 

On  the  southern  side  of  the  peak,  under  a  pile  of  stones, 
which  shelters  you  from  the  wind,  a  mountain  panorama  is 
unfolded,  which  most  of  our  party  barely  honored  with  a 
glance — some,  in  fact,  did  not  see  it  at  all — but  which,  to 
me,  was  grandly  and  gloriously  beautiful.  Here  you  see 
the  main  body  of  the  White  Mountains,  ridge  behind  ridge, 
summit  over  summit,  in  lines  commingling  like  the  w  avea 
of  the  sea,  harmonious  yet  infinitely  varied — an  exquisite 
study  of  mouiitain-forms,  tinted  with  such  delicate  grada- 
tions of  color  as  would  have  plunged  an  artist  into  despair. 
I  counted  no  less  than  twelve  planes  of  distance,  the  fur 
thest  no  less  distinct  than  the  nearest,  and  gem-like  in  theij 
fine  clearness  of  outline. 


TBAVELS    AT   HOMB.  865 

The  sound  of  a  bell  called  us  to  dinner,  and  it  was  no 
less  welcome  than  miraculous  a  fact,  that  beefsteaks  and 
potatoes,  pies  aud  puddings  grew  on  the  barren  granite. 
Our  dining-room  had  walls  of  stone,  four  feet  thick,  plas- 
tered and  ceiled  with  muslin,  and  the  wind  whistled  in  a 
hundred  crannies;  yet  the  meal  was  epicurean,  and  the 
shelter  inspired  a  feeling  of  comfort  beyond  that  gorgeous 
saloon  at  Crawford's.  There  was  a  party  of  thirty  up  from 
the  Glen  House,  making  fifty-eight  visitors  in  all.  The 
ladies,  in  their  collapsed  gowns  and  pea-jackets,  huddled 
on  the  warm  side  of  the  house  in  melancholy  groups,  whilt 
the  gentlemen  unstrapped  their  telescopes  and  opera-glasses 
and  climbed  upon  the  roof.  Two  o'clock  was  the  hour  fixed 
for  our  return,  which  allowed  us  but  an  hour  and  a  half 
upon  the  summit. 

The  descent  was  more  toilsome  than  the  ascent.  We 
walked,  in  fact,  to  the  Lake  of  the  Clouds,  where,  by 
spreading  ourselves  among  the  rocks,  we  caught  the  cun- 
ning, unwilling  horses.  The  wind  still  blew  furiously, 
although  the  sun  blistered  our  faces :  we  began  to  be  sore 
and  shaken,  from  the  rough  ride,  and  the  cheerful  chatter 
of  our  company  subsided  into  a  grim,  silent  endurance.  So, 
nearly  four  hours  passed  by,  until,  in  the  ferny  forests  of 
Mount  Clinton,  we  heard  the  strains  of  the  distant  band — 
not  now  discordant,  oh  no  I  a  seraphic  harmony,  rather— 
and,  by-and-by,  a  bruised,  jaded  company  straggled  out  of 
the  woods,  tumbled  out  of  the  saddle,  and  betook  them- 
selves to  sofas  and  rocking-chairs.  The  ladies,  without 
exception,  behaved  well — in  courage  and  endurance  thej 
quite  equalled  the  gentlemen. 


360  AT  HOMS  A2!n>  ABBOaD. 

And  now,  if  any  gentleman  ask  me :  "  Shall  I  aacend 
Mount  Washington?"  I  answer  "Yes" — ^and  if  a  lady, 
"  yes"  again :  and  if  they  reproach  me  afterwards  for  the 
•dvice,  I  know  how  to  classify  them. 


6. — MONTEEAI.  AND  QuEBBO. 

At  Crawford's  we  were  advised  to  take  a  road  which  leads 
northward  over  Cherry  Mountain,  and  so  around  to  Gor- 
ham,  on  the  Grand  Trunk.  We  should  have  followed  this 
advice,  but  for  two  circumstances — first,  there  was  no  direct 
conveyance  thither,  and  secondly,  had  there  been  one,  as  the 
day  was  Saturday,  we  should  have  been  obliged  to  wait 
thirty-six  hours  at  Island  Pond.  On  the  other  hand,  by 
leaving  Crawford's  at  4  a.  m.,  one  can  reach  Montreal  at 
11  P.M. — a  round-about  journey  of  270  miles,  but  very  de- 
lightful as  regards  scenery. 

My  friends  were  greatly  impressed  by  the  difference  be- 
tween Vermont  and  New  Hampshire  scenery.  Our  after- 
loon  ride  up  White  River  Valley,  and  onward  to  the  shoi'ea 
of  Lake  Champlain,  bore  no  resemblance  to  those  of  the 
previous  days.  We  missed  the  almost  Alpine  grandeur  of 
the  White  Mountains,  the  vast  pine  woods,  and  the  broad 
.onely  lakes ;  but  the  mountains  on  either  hand  assumed 
every  variety  of  form.  Their  chains  were  broken  by  deep, 
lateral  glens,  the  meadows  were  smooth  and  green,  the  foli 
age  richer,  the  crops  better,  and  even  the  farm-houses  more 
inviting  in  theii'  aspect  of  thrift  and  prosperity.    We  had 


TRAVELS    AT   HOMB.  307 

a  constant  succession  of  such  landscapes  as  you  see  in  the 
Northern  Swiss  cantons.  Glorious  showers  of  Summer  rain 
dropped  veil  after  veil  of  dim  gray  between  us  and  the 
pictures  of  the  car-window;  then  the  sun  burst  from  behind 
B  cloud,  filling  the  air  with  palpable  gold ;  then  a  deep  in 
digo  shadow  fell  on  the  valley  and  the  gray  film  of  the 
shower  dropped  again.  To  have  properly  enjoyed  and 
appreciated  this  sceneay,  we  should  have  spent  three  days 
between  the  Junction  and  Essex,  not  in  a  railway  car,  but 
in  an  open  wagon,  propelled  by  horse  power. 

We  had  sunset  at  St.  Alban's,  and  by  the  time  we  reached 
Rouse's  Point,  it  was  confirmed  night.     Here  you  must 
change  your  tickets,  and  have  your  baggage  examined — 
which  consists  in  your  telling  the  official  that  you  are  tra- 
vellers and  carry  only  your  necessary  clothing,  whereupon 
he  makes  a  chalk  mark  on  your  trunks,  and  don't  ask  for 
your  key.     There  is  nothing,  in  fact,  to  indicate  that  you 
are  entering  a  foreign  country  (I  have  been  asked  the  same 
question  about  my  baggage  on  the  Camden  and  Amboy, 
and  Philadelphia  and  Baltimore  Railroads).     But  I  forget : 
there  is  one  circumstance,  which  shows,  at  least,  a  change 
in  the  character  of  your  fellow  travellers.    The  sombre 
silence  of  the  American  car  no  longer  lulls  you  into  slum- 
ber ;  you  see  animated  gesticulations;  from  end  to  end  the 
car  rings  with  the  shrill,  snapping  voices  of  the  Canadian 
French.     I  have  never  crossed  the  frontier  from  Rouse's 
Point  without  being  startled  by  this  change.    We   were 
heartily  weary,  but  sleep  was  impossible.     Our  progress 
was  slow,  and  it  was  a  welcome  siglit  when,  towards  mid- 
night, we  saw  the  lights  of  Montreal  reflected  in  the  darl 
waters  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 


368  AT  HOUB  AND   ABROAD. 

The  Sunday  repose  was  doubly  pleasant  in  the  fresh  C» 
nadian  air.  Next  morning  we  took  the  Grand  Trunt  road 
to  Quebec,  passing  through  the  deafening  Victoria  Bridge. 
Of  the  road,  there  is  little  to  say.  After  leaving  St.  Hya- 
cinthe,  the  country  is  mainly  a  level  stretch  of  wild  wood- 
land, until  you  reach  the  Chaudifere.  We  arrived  at  Quebec 
in  season  to  view  the  sunset  from  Durham  Terrace,  which 
was  for  us  the  splendid  drop-curcain  of  the  day.  After 
that,  we  were  satisfied  to  return  to  the  Russell  House,  and 
sleep  upon  the  impressions  of  the  scene. 

The  sky  threatened  rain,  but  we  set  out  boldly  for  the 
Falls  of  Montmorency.  Descending  through  an  ancient  and 
fish-like  quarter  of  the  city,  we  crossed  the  St.  Charles 
River,  and  entered  the  long  suburban  street  wbich  extends 
to  the  Falls,  This  highway,  crowning  the  undulating  riso 
of  the  northern  shore,  commands  a  broad  and  superb  view 
of  the  queenly  city,  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  Isle  d'Orleans, 
and  the  opposite  bank.  It  is  therefore  a  favorite  location 
for  country  residences,  though  the  greater  part  of  the  soil 
seems  to  have  been  pre-occupied  by  the  French  habitans. 
Quaint  old  houses,  old  gardens  (which  are  always  beauti 
ful),  small  fields  of  grain  and  potatoes,  and  village-clusters 
of  neat  cottages  succeeded  one  another  rapidly  on  both 
sides — all  with  the  same  mellow  aspect  of  age  and  use.  I 
saw  scarcely  half  a  dozen  new  houses  in  all  the  eight  mileei 
The  old  dwellings,  with  their  heavy  stone  walls,  tin  roofi 
tall  chimneys,  and  the  snug  way  in  which  they  crouched 
for  shelter  among  gro^'es  of  firs,  were  strongly  suggestive 
of  comfort  and  domesticity.  But  I  was  even  more  charmed 
with  the  French  cottages  and  their  cheerful  occupants.  Fo: 


TEAVET5   AT   HOMB.  36d 

the  most  part  simple,  one-story  structures,  a  hundred  yeai-g 
old  OT  more,  they  were  scrupulously  neat  and  orderly,  and 
tne  women  and  girls  whom  we  saw  through  the  open  doors 
nd  windows,  at  their  knitting  and  sewing,  or  engaged  ir 
ively  gossip,  were  the  fitting  pictures  for  such  frames.  Many 
of  the  cottages  had  their  little  gardens,  with  beds  of  cab 
bages  and  onions,  and  some  bunches  of  gaudy  marigolds, 
snapdragons,  bergamot  and  lavender.  All  the  northern 
bank,  sloping  below  us,  carefully  cultivated  and  thickly  in- 
habited, basked  in  an  atmosphere  of  pastoral  peace  and 
simplicity,  while  in  the  background  towered  the  city  and 
citadel,  a  mountain  of  glittering  roofs. 

We  passed  the  Insane  Asylum,  a  handsome  building  of 
gray  granite,  in  front  of  which  a  harmless  patient,  in  fan- 
tastic attire,  was  walking  with  a  banner  in  his  hand.  A 
mile  or  two  beyond,  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  stood  an 
ancient  stone  building,  with  steep  roofs  and  tall  chimneys, 
which,  according  to  the  coachman,  was  once  the  residence 
of  the  Marquis  de  Montcalm.  Little  boys,  with  bunches 
of  wild  flowers,  lay  in  wait  for  us  as  we  advanced,  and  all 
the  French  children,  standing  in  the  cottage-doors,  saluted 
us  by  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  wave  of  the  right  hand.  I 
wish  our  own  race  partook  a  little  more  of  the  ingrained 
cheerfulness  and  courtesy  of  the  French.  These  habitans 
are  not  only  kind,  faithful,  and  as  virtuous  as  the  averag 
of  men — and  a  little  cheerful  cordiality  wins  their  hearts  at 
once — but  they  also  ofier  an  example  of  religious  tolerance 
worthy  of  imitation.  They  are  very  devoted  to  their  own 
faith,  but  regard  their  Protestant  neighbors  without  the 
least  bitterness  of  prejudice. 


970  AT   HOME   AKD   ABBOAD. 

The  gray  clouds  which  had  been  gathering  during  ooi 
drive  finally  broke  out  into  rain,  just  as  we  reached  the 
Falls.  We  drew  up  at  a  house — a  compound  of  tavern  and 
Indian  curiosity-shop,  in  a  grove  of  evergreens,  and  were 
met  with  the  hospitable  announcement  "  Twenty-five  cents 
apiece !"  A  party  of  Southern  gentlemen  who  preceded 
us  grumbled  loudly  at  this  tax  and  openly  expressed  their 
disgust  with  Canada ;  but  where  platforms  must  be  built, 
and  staircases  erected  for  the  traveller's  accommodation,  it 
is  nothing  more  than  fair  that  he  should  pay  for  it.  The 
native  American  mind,  however,  which  can  complacently 
contemplate  the  spending  of  fifty  dollars  on  a  spree,  rebels 
against  the  payment  of  fifty  cents  in  the  shape  of  a  just  tax. 
We  might  have  fine  macadamized  highways  in  all  the  older 
portions  of  the  United  States,  if  our  people  would  calculate 
the  present  wear  and  tear  of  teams,  and  be  willing  to  pay 
the  same  amount  in  the  shape  of  tolls.  But  no — none  of 
your  tolls  I  Give  us  our  bad  roads  and  our  glorious  inde- 
pendence ! 

There  was  no  sign  of  a  cessation  of  the  rain,  and  we 
therefore  descended  through  the  grove  under  umbrellas, 
to  the  river,  which,  above  the  fall,  flows  in  a  rough  bed, 
some  forty  or  fifty  feet  deep.  The  stone  piers  of  the 
former  suspension  bi'idge  stand  on  either  side,  as  melan- 
choly monuments  of  its  fall.  The  chains  gave  way  a  few 
ycats  ago,  as  a  farmer  with  his  horse  and  cart  was  passing 
over  the  bridge,  and  all  plunged  down  the  abyss  together 
A  safe  platform  leads  along  the  rocks  to  a  pavilion  on  a 
])oint  at  the  side  of  the  fall,  and  on  a  level  with  it.  Here 
the  gulf,  nearly  three  hundred  feet  deep,  with  its  walls  of 


TRAYSia  AT  HOMX.  371 

chocolate-colored  earth,  and  its  patches  of  emei-ald  herbage, 
wet  with  eternal  spray,  opens  to  the  St.  Lawrence. 

Montmorenci  is  one  of  the  loveliest  waterfalls.  In  iti 
general  character  it  bears  some  resemblance  to  the  Pisse- 
vache,  in  Switzerland,  which,  however,  is  much  smaller 
The  water  is  snow-white,  tinted,  in  the  heaviest  portion 
of  the  fall,  with  a  soft  yellow,  like  that  of  raw  silk.  In  fact, 
broken  as  it  is  by  the  irregular  edge  of  the  rock,  it  reminds 
one  of  masses  of  silken,  flossy  skeins,  continually  overlap- 
ping one  another  as  they  fall.  At  the  bottom,  dashed 
upon  a  pile  of  rocks,  it  shoots  far  out  in  star-like  radii  of 
spray,  which  share  the  regular  throb  or  pulsation  of  the 
falling  masses.  The  edges  of  the  fall  flutter  out  into  lace- 
like points  and  fringes,  which  dissolve  into  gauze  as  they 
descend.  The  peculiar  charm  of  a  cataract  depends  op 
the  character  of  these  exquisite,  transient  forms. 

The  view  of  the  fall  from  below  must  be  still  finer,  in 
some  respects;  but  it  can  only  be  obtained  by  taking  a 
circuitous  path,  too  long  to  be  travelled  in  a  driving  rain. 
We  omitted  visiting  the  Natural  Steps  for  the  same  reason, 
and  set  ofi",  dripping,  for  Quebec.  All  afternoon  the  win- 
dows of  heaven  were  opened,  and  muddy  cataracts  poured 
down  the  steep  streets.  At  Russell's,  the  roof  of  the  dming 
saloon  leaked  in  such  a  manner  that  little  streams  poured 
upon  the  heads  of  the  guests,  and  a  portion  of  the  floor 
was  swamped.  After  the  long  drouth,  this  rain  was  indeed 
ft  blessing. 

Ever  since,  as  a  boy,  I  read  Prof.  Silliman's  **  Tour  to 
Quebec,"  it  had  been  one  of  my  wishes  to  visit  the  dty. 
Pictures  and  descriptions,  I  found,  had  given  me  a  verj 


372  AX  HOMS  AND   ABBOAD. 

accurate  idea  of  its  appearance.  The  high,  massive,  steep 
roofed  stone  houses,  crowded  together  at  the  foot  of 
the  rock,  and  cUmbing  around  its  eastern  side,  the  nai 
row,  crooked  streets,  old  churches,  contracted,  badly 
paved  squares,  and  the  citadel,  with  its  huge  walls  of  de 
fence,  crowning  all,  exactly  answered  my  anticipations 
but  I  was  conscious  of  disappointment  in  one  particular 
The  rock  is  not  a  perpendicular  cliff,  but  sloping,  covered 
with  a  growth  of  hardy  shrubs,  and  capable  of  being  scaled 
in  some  places.  I  read,  some  years  ago,  of  a  soldier  on 
guard  having  incautiously  stepped  over  the  edge,  and 
fallen  two  hundred  and  fifty-seven  feet  through  the  air, 
alighting  upon  a  pile  of  earth  in  the  back-yard  of  a  house 
below,  without  any  other  inconvenience  than  a  g  neral 
sense  of  soreness,  from  which  he  recovered  in  a  few  days ! 
This  struck  me  as  one  of  the  most  beautiful  accidents  of 
which  I  had  ever  heard.  I  placed  it  on  my  list  of  "  remark- 
able escapes,"  beside  the  case  of  the  Vermont  quarryman 
who  had  a  crow-bar  shot  through  his  brain.  But  I  fear  I 
must  give  it  up.  When  I  came  to  look  at  the  citadel,  I 
found  no  place  where  such  an  accident  could  possibly 
happen.  A  man,  indeed,  might  roll  from  top  to  bottom, 
and  find  himself  sore  at  the  end  of  the  journey. 

We  again  walked  on  Durham  Terrace,  the  view  from 
which  surpasses  that  from  Calton  Hill,  in  Edinburgh.  Tht 
Citadel  cannot  be  entered  without  a  special  permission 
The  flat  summit  of  the  hill,  westward,  is  the  celebrated 
Plain  of  Abraham,  which  we  saw  from  the  other  side  of 
the  St.  Lawrence,  but  were  not  able  to  visit.  In  fact,  when 
we  left  Quebec,  it  was  with  the  consciousness  that  we  had 


TBAYBLS   AT   HOME.  878 

not  done  justice  either  to  its  natural  bdkuties  oi  its  historic 
associations.  Several  weeks  might  be  spent  with  great 
pleasure  and  profit  here,  and  in  the  neighboring  portion? 
of  Lower  Canada. 

It  is  pleasant  to  notice  the  friendly  feeling  which  if" 
growing  up  between  the  inhabitants  of  Canada  and  the 
United  States.  The  number  of  American  tourists  and 
sportsmen  who  come  this  way  is  annually  increasing,  and 
with  it  there  is  a  certain  assimilation  of  habits,  by  which 
both  parties  are  the  gainers.  For  travellers  the  frontier 
is  but  a  nominal  line,  and  in  the  newer  parts  of  Canada 
there  is  nothing  but  the  preponderance  of  English  faces 
among  the  inhabitants  to  indicate  a  diflference  of  nation- 
ality. On  steamboats,  and  in  hotels,  the  two  peoples  fra- 
ternize readily  and  naturally,  and  discuss  their  points  of 
difference  without  acrimony.  Twenty  years  ago  this  was 
not  the  case.  An  American  was  looked  upon  with  preju- 
dice, if  not  with  suspicion,  and  if  he  settled  in  the  country 
was  treated  as  an  unwelcome  intruder.  Now,  there  are 
communities  of  American  residents  in  Montreal,  Toronto, 
and  the  towns  of  Canada  West,  many  of  whom  are  deserv- 
edly honored  by  their  Canadian  brethren.  The  increased 
facilities  of  intercourse,  the  intimacy  of  commercial  rela- 
tions, and,  above  all,  the  difference  of  tone  adopted  towardi 
the  United  States  by  the  English  Government— /or  Ganado 
not  only  reflects,  but  exaggerates  English  opinion*— hayt 

*  The  reader  wUl  naturally  compare  this  expression,  written  in  July, 
I860,  with  the  present  condition  of  afifaira  (December,  1861).  Nothing 
seems  to  be  so  reckless  and  fickle  as  the  tone  of  popular  sentiment  Three 
montha  after  my  visit  to  Quebec  the  heir  to  England's  throne  waa  received 


374  AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

wrought  an  entire  iPevolution  in  public  sentiment.  Lei  me 
confess,  also,  that  this  change  is  reciprocal.  No  decent 
American  can  visit  Canada  without  finding  many  people 
whom  he  can  esteem,  and,  when  he  is  tempted  to  pick  at 
he  flaws  of  the  Colonial  Government,  let  him  first  think 
of  the  flimsy  patches  in  the  woof  of  his  own. 


(J. — ^Up  thb  Saquknay. 

Lkt  ns  now  step  on  board  the  steamer  Magnet,  Capt. 
Howard,  bound  for  the  Saguenay  River.  Most  of  the  Summer 
tourists  whom  we  had  met  at  Russell's,  on  our  arrival,  were 
booked  for  the  same  trip,  and  of  the  hundred  passengers  on 
board,  more  than  half  were  Americans.  The  remainder 
were  English  Canadians,  bound  for  the  various  watering- 
places  down  the  St.  Lawrence.  As  so  much — ^nay,  all — of 
our  enjoyment  depended  on  the  weather,  it  was  comforting 
to  find  the  morning  mist  rolled  away,  the  sky  clear,  and  a 
warm,  genial  sun  in  the  midst  of  it. 

The  St.  Lawrence,  which,  at  Quebec,  is  not  more  than 

in  the  United  States  with  a  welcome,  truly  sublime  in  its  sincerity  and 
generosity.  Now,  the  English  press  and  people,  and  their  subserrient 
iiritators  in  Canada,  are  convulsed  with  a  madness — so  blind  and  unrea 
sonable  that  it  taxes  our  powers  of  belief — to  rush  to  war  in  consequtnoe 
of  a  slight  technical  difference,  and  in  defence  of  an  "  institution,"  which 
they  have  heretofore  held  in  utter  abhorrence!  Who  shall  venture  tc 
write  history  when  the  professed  "  moral  sense "  of  half  a  century  ♦;umi 
out  to  have  been  a  sham — when  England,  whose  conscience  on  (his  point 
»t  least,  was  conceded,  becomes  the  Pecksniff  of  nations? 


TBAVKLS  AT  BOMB.  S7S 

%  mile  wide,  br  )adens  immediately  below  the  city  into  a 
majestic  expanse  of  water,  which  the  great  Isle  d'Orleans 
divides  into  two  nearly  equal  arms.  The  hurricane-deck 
of  the  steamer,  from  the  moment  of  departure,  offered  us  a 
panorama  so  grand,  and  fair,  and  attractive  on  all  sides,  thai 
the  fear  of  losing  any  portion  of  it  kept  us  vibrating  from 
fore  to  aft,  and  from  aft  forward  again.  Behind  us  lay  the 
city,  with  its  tinned  roofs  glittering  in  the  morning  sunshine, 
and  its  citadel-rock  towering  over  the  river ;  on  the  south 
ern  shore.  Point  Levi,  picturesquely  climbing  the  steep 
bank,  embowered  in  dark  trees ;  then  the  wooded  bluffs 
with  their  long  levels  of  fann-land  behind  them,  and  the 
scattered  cottages  of  the  habitansy  while,  northward  the 
shore  rose  with  a  gradual,  undulating  sweep,  glittering,  far 
inland,  with  houses,  and  gardens,  and  crowding  villages, 
until  it  reached  the  dark,  stormy  line  of  the  Laurentian 
Mountains  in  the  north-east.  In  front,  the  Isle  of  Orleans 
reproduced  the  features  of  the  shores.  Pictures  so  blight, 
so  broad,  so  crowded  with  life  and  beauty,  I  had  not 
expected  to  find. 

"This  is  no  longer  America,"  said  my  friends.  There 
was  not  a  feature  in  all  the  wide  view  (except  our  double- 
decked  steamer),  to  remind  us  of  the  New  World;  yet,  on 
the  other  hand,  we  could  not  have  referred  it  to  any  one 
portion  of  Europe.  The  sky,  the  air,  the  colors  of  the  land- 
scape, were  from  Norway ;  Quebec  and  the  surrounding  vil 
lages  suggested  Normandy — except  the  tin  roofs  and  spires, 
which  were  Russian,  rather  ;  while  here  and  there,  though 
rarely,  were  the  marks  of  English  occupancy.  The  age,  the 
order,  the  apparent  stability  and  immobility  of  society,  a« 


S'76  AT   HOMS  AND  ABBOAD. 

illustrated  by  external  things,  belonged  decidedly  to  Europe 
This  part  of  Canada  is  but  seventy  or  eighty  years  oldei 
than  New-England,  yet  there  seems  to  be  a  difference  of 
five  hundred  years.  A  century  of  foreign  domination  hai 
made  no  material  change  in  the  character  and  habits  of  the 
French  population.  In  fact,  the  change  in  the  peasantry 
of  France  has  been  much  greater  during  the  same  period. 
That  magic  atmosphere  of  the  Past,  which  makes  Europe 
so  attractive  to  an  American,  already  spreads  a  thin  veil 
over  these  Canadian  shores. 

As  we  approached  the  end  of  the  Isle  d'Orleans,  a  spar- 
kle of  silver  light  shone  through  the  trees  fringing  the  chasm 
on  the  northern  shore — then  a  long,  wavy  line,  and,  at 
length,  the  whole  cascade  of  Montmorenci  opened  to  the 
view,  glittering  in  the  sun.  We  were  two  or  three  miles 
distant,  and  no  sound  reached  our  ears,  but  the  movement 
of  the  falling  water,  the  silent  play  of  airiest  light  and  sha- 
dow over  its  face — like  ripples  on  a  skein  of  snowy  silk — 
was  exquisitely  beautiful.  Many  varieties  of  scenery  as  I 
have  looked  upon,  it  was  at  last  something  new  to  see  a 
great  waterfall  set  in  the  midst  of  a  vast,  sunny  landscape, 
where  it  is  seen  as  one  of  many  features,  and  not  itself  the 
point  to  which  all  others  are  subordinate. 

Taking  the  channel  between  Isle  d'Orleans  and  the  south 
shore,  we  lost  sight  of  Quebec,  and  settled  ourselves  quietly 
on  the  forward  deck,  to  contemplate  the  delicious  pastoral 
pictures  which  were  unfolded  on  either  side.  The  island, 
which  is  twenty  miles  long,  is  densely  populated  and  most 
thoroughly  cultivated.  The  high,  undulating  hills  are 
dotted  with  cottages,  mostly  white  as  snow,  roof  and  all 


TBATELS  AT  HOMB  3^) 

ind  every  cove  of  the  irregular  shore  has  its  village.  Most 
of  the  St.  Lawrence  pilots  have  their  homes  upon  this  island, 
the  population  of  which  is  exclusively  French.  The  per- 
manence  of  habits  to  which  I  have  referred,  is  exhibited  on 
the  southern  shore  of  the  river,  where  the  broad,  original 
fields  of  the  father  have  been  portioned  among  his  children, 
and  their  diminished  inheritances  among  theirs,  until  you 
see  narrow  ribbons  of  soil  rather  than  fields.  There  is  thus 
an  apparent  density  of  population,  an  aspect  of  age  and  long 
culture,  which  is  scarcely  to  be  seen  anywhere  else  on  the 
American  Continent. 

The  grand  features  of  the  scenery,  no  less  than  the  power 
of  transmitted  associations,  must  bind  these  people  to  their 
homes.  They  are  happy,  contented,  and  patriotic — ^if  such 
a  term  can  be  properly  applied  to  them,  who,  governed  by 
a  foreign  race,  have  forgotten  the  ties  which  once  bound 
them  to  their  own.  The  soil,  I  believe,  is  good,  but  the 
climate — that  of  lat.  60°  on  the  European  Coast — makes 
their  lives  necessarily  laborious,  and  diminishes  the  profits 
of  agnculture  to  such  an  extent  that  most  of  them  barely 
live.  Cattle  must  be  stabled  during  seven  months  of  the 
year,  and  when  the  hay-crop  fails,  as  this  Summer,  half  their 
resources  fail  with  it.  A  gentleman  who  owns  a  farm  on 
the  northern  shore  informed  me  that  he  can  just  support 
his  family,  and  no  more.  Another,  who  has  several  cows 
during  the  Summer,  which  are  valued  at  $20  apiece,  sella 
them  in  the  Fall,  on  ascertaining  that  it  costs  just  $28  to 
keep  them  through  the  Winter.  By  buying  fresh  ones  in 
the  Spring,  lie  saves  68  a  head.  It  is  now  the  height  of  Sum- 
mer, and  a  wind  is  blowing  which  makes  us  shiver:  what 


378  AT  UOUK  AND  ABBOAD. 

must  it  be  in  the  dead  of  Winter  ?  I  never  visit  these 
northern  regions  without  a  vivid  recollection  of  those  tropic 
islands  where  life  is  one  long,  splendid  Summer — where 
twenty  days'  work  in  every  year  will  support  a  man.  Here, 
however,  is  a  home^  as  well  as  there ;  and,  so  long  as  a  man 
is  happy,  it  makes  no  difference  whether  he  lives  at  the 
Equator  or  the  North  Pole. 

Below  the  Isle  d'Orleans,  the  St.  Lawrence  exhibits  a 
majestic  breadth.  In  fact,  this  is  already  an  inlet  of  the 
sea  rather  than  a  river.  The  water  is  brackish  at  flood-tide, 
and  the  wind  soon  gets  up  a  disagreeable  sea.  At  Quebec, 
the  rise  and  fall  of  the  tides  is  sixteen  feet,  but  in  the  Lower 
St.  Lawrence  it  frequently  amounts  almost  to  a  hore.  Seve- 
ral low,  wooded  islands  succeed ;  the  Laurentian  Mountains 
come  down  boldly  to  the  river  on  the  north,  and  as  we  stand 
across  toward  Murray  Bay,  the  south  shore  fades  into  a  dim 
blue  line,  above  which  rise,  in  the  distance,  groups  of  lofty 
hills.  These  are  the  connecting  link  between  the  White 
Mountains  and  the  Laurentian  chain,  which  stretches  away 
icross  the  country  to  the  coast  of  Labrador.  We  ran  along 
the  bases  of  headlands,  one  thousand  to  fifteen  hundred  feet 
in  height,  wild  and  dark  with  lowering  clouds,  gray  with 
rain,  or  touched  with  a  golden  transparency  by  the  sunshine 
— alternating  belts  of  atmospheric  effect,  which  greatly  in- 
creased their  beauty.  Indeed,  all  of  us  who  saw  the  Lower 
St.  Lawrence  for  the  first  time  were  surprised  by  the  impos- 
ng  character  of  its  scenery. 

The  Isle  aux  Coudres,  which  we  next  passed,  is  a  beauti- 
ful pastoral  mosaic,  in  the  pale  emerald  setting  of  the  river 
Here,  I  am  told,  the  habitans  retain  their  ancient  customi 


TRAVELS   AT   HOME.  8^0 

'o  a  greater  extent  than  in  any  other  part  of  Lowei  Canada 
One  need  not  refer  to  History  to  ascertain  their  Norman 
descent :  it  is  sufficiently  exhibited  in  their  fields,  cottages, 
and  gai-dens. 

Murray  Bay,  a  short  distance  beyond,  is  the  fashionable 
watering-place  on  the  north  shore,  as  Kakouna  is  for  the 
southern.  It  is  a  small  cove,  opening  up  into  a  picturesqxie 
dell  among  the  mountains.  Access  to  it  is  had  by  means  of 
an  immense  wooden  pier — a  Government  work,  built  by  con- 
tract, and,  of  course,  put  in  the  wrong  place.  "  It  seems, 
then,"  I  said  to  the  Canadian  gentleman  who  imparted  to 
me  this  piece  of  information,  "that  your  Government  jobs 
are  no  better  performed  than  ours."  "Oh,  much  worse," 
was  his  answer.  "  Is  it  possible  they  can  be  worse  ?"  I  asked 
incredulously.  "  I  assure  you,"  said  he,  "our  official  cor- 
ruption surpasses  yours ;  but  we  have  the  English  reluc- 
tance to  say  much  about  such  things.  "We  quietly  cover 
up,  or  ignore,  what  we  cannot  help ;  whereas,  you,  in  the 
States,  make  an  outcry  from  one  end  of  the  land  to  the 
other.  The  difference  is  not  in  the  fact,  but  in  the  proclar 
niation  of  it."  If  this  view  be  true,  it  is  consoling  to  us, 
but  discouraging  to  humanity. 

The  wind  blew  violently  from  the  west,  and  our  steamer 
pitched  dangerously  at  the  end  of  the  pier.  The  passengers 
were  thrust  up  the  plank,  or  tumbled  down  it,  to  the  great 
diversion  of  a  crowd  of  spectators,  whose  appetites  were 
rt'hetted  by  the  prospect  of  an  accident.  I  was  much  amused 
by  the  timidity  of  three  priests,  who,  when  the  vessel  gave 
a  mild  lurch,  sprang  to  some  awning-stanchions  with  cverj 
appearance  of  extreme  terror.     One  of  them,  seeing  no  othei 


380  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

support  near  at  hand,  seized  upon  a  lady,  and  clung  to  bet 
ai-nj  rather  longer  than  was  necessary.  They  then  rushed 
collectively  into  the  cabin,  whence  they  did  not  emerge 
afterward,  although  the  water  became  smooth.  This  le- 
minds  me  of  the  singular  fact  that  the  most  timorous  class 
of  persons  at  sea  are  clergymen.  Why  those  who  can  cou- 
rageously face  death  in  other  forms  should  exhibit  this 
weakness,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand,  but  the  fact  is  so 
patent  as  to  have  become  a  sailor's  proverb. 

A  jolly,  red-gilled,  full-blooded  Englishman,  lying  at  full 
length  on  a  narrow  lintel  above  the  gangway,  was  recount- 
ing his  exploits  in  trout-fishing,  I  forget  how  many  hundred 
he  had  caught  in  the  mountain-streams  the  day  before 
"  How  about  the  bathing  ?"  asked  some  one.  "  Capital  1" 
he  exclaimed,  "  I  had  a  bath  to-day."  We  were  wrapped 
in  the  thickest  shawls,  and  the  bare  idea  made  us  shudder, 
but  one  look  at  the  speaker,  whose  frame  contained  latent 
«arbon  enough  to  melt  an  iceberg,  explained  to  me  the 
mystery  of  bathing  in  such  waters.  We,  who  are  thin- 
blooded  Southerners,  in  comparison,  would  not  have  found 
it  so  enjoyable. 

Leaving  Murray  Bay,  we  stood  diagonally  across  the  St 
Lawrence  to  Riviere  du  Loup,  which  is  on  the  southern 
shore,  nearly  a  hundred  miles  below  Quebec.  The  river  is 
here  about  twenty-five  miles  wide,  and  presents  a  clear  sea- 
liorizon  to  the  eastward.  It  was  almost  sunset  when  we 
succeeded  in  making  fast  to  the  long  pier,  and  the  crowd 
oihabitansy  with  their  ricketty,  one-horse  caleches,  who 
had  been  patiently  watching  our  battle  with  the  wind  for 
an  hour  >r  more,  were  enabled  to  oflfer  their  services.  Some 


TBATEXS  AT   HOMlC  881 

of  our  passengers  were  bound  for  Kakouna,  six  miles  fur- 
ther down  the  shore,  and  landed  here;  while  those  who 
had  shipped  for  the  entire  trip  were  anxious  to  visit  the 
village,  whose  white  houses,  and  tall  gray  church  crowning 
the  hill  gleamed  softly  in  the  last  gold  of  the  sun.  It  wag 
pleasant  to  find  hackmen  who  could  accost  you  once,  and 
once  only,  in  an  ordinary  tone  of  voice,  and  whose  first  de- 
mands were  moderate  enough  to  be  accepted. 

I  chose  an  honest  fellow,  whose  face  was  English,  tffough 
his  language  and  nature  were  decidedly  French,  and  pre- 
sently we  were  bouncing  in  his  car  over  a  rough  road, 
around  the  deep  cove  which  separates  the  landing-place 
from  the  village  of  Riviere  du  Loup.  "  Voila  du  bon  bU!'''* 
said  he,  pointing  to  some  fields  of  very  scanty  oats,  and  his 
admiration  appeared  so  genuine  that  I  was  compelled  to 
admire  them  also.  "  Yotre  cheval  est  boiteusc^''  I  replied, 
pointing  to  his  limping  horse.  "  Oh^  pardon^  monsieur  /" 
said  he,  "  c^est  une  jument,  vaiUante,  vigoureuse  !  Get  up, 
ma  paresseusse .'"  and  with  an  extra  shake  of  the  lines,  away 
we  dashed,  showering  the  mud  on  all  sides.  By  this  time, 
the  sun  had  set,  and  the  village  appeared  before  us,  neat, 
trim,  and  home-like,  with  a  quaint,  Old-World  air.  Houses 
one  story  high,  scrupulously  white- washed  doors,  raised 
above  the  average  level  of  the  winter  snows,  well-kept  gar 
dens,  and  clean  gravel  roads,  were  the  principal  features  of 
the  place.  The  river  comes  down  a  wild  glen  in  two  bold 
waterfalls,  and  finishes  its  course  by  driving  a  large  flour 
mill.  A  mile  inland  is  the  terminus  of  the  St.  Lawrence 
branch  of  the  Grand  Trunk  Railroad, 

We  drove  around  and  through  the  village  in  the  gathei 


882  AT  HOME  AKC  ABROAI>. 

iug  twilight,  visited  the  new  Catholic  Churfyh,  of  iminenM 
dimensions,  and  finally  turned  about,  on  the  top  of  the  hill, 
whence  a  broad,  macadamized  road  struck  southward  into 
the  country.  This  was  the  Government  highway  to  St, 
Johns,  New  Brunswick,  three  hundred  miles  distant.  It 
is  now  finished,  with  the  exception  of  eighteen  miles  along 
Lake  Temiscouata,  which  will  be  completed  this  year. 
The  American  frontier  is  not  more  than  thirty  or  forty 
milesudistant  from  Riviere  du  Loup.  The  overland  jour- 
ney from  the  Bay  of  Fundy  to  the  St.  Lawrence  ofiers 
many  inducements  to  the  home  tourist.  Were  I  travelling 
alone,  I  should  undertake  it  myself.  In  winter,  the  trip 
from  Riviere  du  Loup  to  Madawaska  is  sometimes  made  in 
a  day. 

The  Magnet  lay  at  the  pier  until  three  o'clock  this  morn- 
ing, when  she  started  for  the  Saguenay,  across  the  St.  Law- 
rence, but  twenty-seven  miles  distant.  When  I  went  on 
deck,  we  were  passing  Tadoussac,  a  post  of  the  Hndson'g 
Bay  Company,  just  inside  the  Saguenay.  Here,  an  old 
Jesuit  church  is  pointed  out  to  the  visitor  as  the  first 
church  built  on  the  American  continent.  This  must  be  a 
mistake,  however,  as  one  which  was  built  by  Cortez  ia 
still  standing  in  Vera  Cruz,  and  Jacques  Cartier's  first  visit 
to  Canada  was  made,  I  believe,  in  1542.  Nevertheless, 
Ihe  little  chapel  of  Tadoussac  is  not  only  an  interesting 
antiquity,  but  a  picturesque  object  in  itself.  Two  milea 
further  is  iJAnse  d  PJEau^  a  lumber  station,  where  we 
touched,  and  where,  to  my  regret,  Mr.  Witcher,  an  official 
surveyor,  whose  conversation  I  had  found  very  instructive 
left  us. 


TRAVELS   AT   HOMS.  888 

Passing  around  the  headland  of  La  Boule,  we  found  our 
selves  at  last  surrounded  with  the  gray  rocks  of  the  Sague- 
nay.  The  morning  w  as  clear,  but  cold ;  an  icy  wind  blew 
down  the  river,  and  the  more  delicate  lady-passengen 
congregated  about  the  cabin-stove.  No  magical  illusions 
of  atmosphere  enwrap  the  scenery  of  this  northern  river. 
Everything  is  hard,  naked,  stem,  silent.  Dark-gray  cliflS 
of  granitic  gneiss  rise  from  the  pitch-black  water ;  firs  of 
gloomy  green  are  rooted  in  their  crevices  and  fringe  their 
summits ;  loftier  ranges,  of  a  dull,  indigo  hue,  show  them- 
selves in  the  background,  and,  over  all,  bends  a  pale,  cold, 
northern  sky.  This  keen  air,  which  brings  out  every  object 
with  a  crystalline  distinctness,  even  contracts  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  scenery,  diminishes  the  height  of  the  cliffs, 
and  apparently  belittles  the  majesty  of  the  river,  so  that 
the  first  impression  is  one  of  disappointment.  Still,  it 
exercises  a  fascination  which  you  cannot  resist.  You  look, 
and  look,  fettered  by  the  fresh,  novel,  savage  stamp  which 
Nature  exhibits,  and  at  last,  as  in  St.  Peter's  or  at  Niagara, 
learn  from  the  character  of  the  separate  features  to  appre- 
ciate the  grandeur  of  the  whole. 

The  Saguenay  is  not,  properly,  a  river.  It  is  a  tremen- 
dous chasm,  like  that  of  the  Jordan  Valley  and  the  Dead 
Sea,  cleft  for  sixty  miles  through  the  heart  of  a  mounr^in 
wilderness.  The  depth  of  the  water  varies  from  twenty- 
five  to  one  hundred  and  forty-seven  fathoms,  and  the 
height  of  the  rocks  on  either  side  from  five  hundred  to 
fifteen  hundred  feet.  On  approaching  Chicoutimi,  sixty 
miles  from  the  St.  LaAvrejice,  the  river  suddenly  becomei 
vhallow,  and  thence  to  Lake  St.  John  it  is  an  insignificant 


384  AT  BOMB  AND   ABROAD. 

Stream,  navigable  only  for  canoes.  The  upper  ralley 
which  is  rapidly  becoming  settled,  is  said  to  be  very  fertile 
and  to  possess  a  milder  climate  than  Quebec,  although 
nearly  two  degrees  further  north.  But  from  L'Anse  h 
I'Eau  to  Ha-ha  Bay,  the  extent  of  our  voyage,  there  are  noi 
more  than  half  a  dozen  places  where  a  settler  could  find 
room  enough  for  a  house  and  garden. 

Steadily  upwards  we  went,  the  windings  of  the  river  and 
Its  varying  breadth — from  half  a  mile  to  nearly  two  milea 
— giving  us  a  shifting  succession  of  the  grandest  pictures. 
Shores  that  seemed  roughly  piled  together  out  of  the  frag- 
ments of  chaos  overhung  us — great  masses  of  rock,  gleam- 
ing duskily  through  their  scanty  drapery  of  evergreens, 
here  lifting  long,  irregular  walls  against  the  sky,  there  split 
into  huge,  fantastic  forms  by  deep  lateral  gorges,  up  which 
we  saw  the  dark-blue  crests  of  loftier  mountains  in  the 
rear.  The  water  beneath  us  was  black  as  night,  with  a 
pitchy  glaze  on  its  surface,  and  the  only  life  in  all  the 
savage  solitude,  was,  now  and  then,  the  back  of  a  white 
porpoise,  in  some  of  the  deeper  coves. 

By  nine  o'clock,  we  saw  the  headland  of  Eternity  before 
us,  with  Trinity  beyond.  These  two  celebrated  capes  are 
on  the  western  bank  of  the  Saguenay,  divided  by  a  cove 
about  half  a  mile  wide.  They  are  gray,  streaked  masses 
of  perpendicular  rock,  said  to  be  fifteen  hundred  feet  in 
height.  By  the  eye  alone,  I  should  not  have  estimated 
ihem  at  over  one  thousand  feet,  but  I  was  assured  the 
height  had  been  ascertained  by  actual  measurement.  Cer- 
tain it  is,  they  appear  much  higher  on  the  second  than  or 
the  first  view.    These  awful  clifis,  planted  in  water  nearly  a 


TQAYELS   AT   HOMB.  38fi 

thousand  feet  deep,  and  soaring  into  the  very  sky,  form  the 
gateway  to  a  rugged  valley,  stretching  inland,  and  covered 
with  the  dark,  primeval  forest  of  the  North.  I  doubt 
whether  a  sublimer  picture  of  the  wilderness  is  to  be  found 
on  this  continent. 

Toward  noon,  we  reached  Ha-ha  Bay,  which  is  a  branch 
or  inlet  of  the  river,  some  miles  in  length.  At  its  extre- 
mity, there  is  a  flourishing  settlement.  The  hills  around 
were  denuded  of  their  forests ;  fields  of  wheat,  oats,  and 
barley,  grew  on  the  steep  slopes,  and  the  cold  ridges  were 
dotted  with  hay-cocks.  Capt.  Howard  gave  us  but  an 
hour,  but  we  determined  to  spend  the  most  of  it  ashore. 
As  we  approached  the  beach  in  the  steamer's  boat,  we 
noticed  a  multitude  of  caleches,  drawn  by  ponies,  standing 
in  the  water.  Presently  we  grounded,  and  there  was  a 
rush  of  vehicles  to  our  rescue.  With  infinite  yelling  and 
splashing,  and  much  good-humored  emulation  on  the  part 
of  the  drivers,  half  a  dozen  caleches  were  backed  out 
against  the  boat  (the  water  rising  over  the  shafts),  and  we 
stepped  into  them.  Away  went  the  delighted  coachmen, 
and  our  wheeled  gondolas  soon  reached  the  shore.  The 
village  contains  about  a  hundred  houses,  most  of  which 
were  quite  new,  I  noticed  some  cherry  and  plum  trees  in 
the  gardens,  and  the  usual  vegetables,  which  appeared  to 
thrive  very  well. 

Our  coachman,  an  hoMtant^  was  loud  in  his  praises  of 
the  place,  although  he  had  so  little  to  show  us.  "Where 
is  the  hotel  ?''  I  asked,  after  we  had  seen  all  the  cottages 
and  saw-mills.  "There  is  none,"  he  answered.  "But 
where  do  strangers  go,  when  they  come  here  ?♦'     "  Why," 


386  AT  HOHB  AKD   ABBOAD. 

Baid  he,  with  a  grin,  "  they  dorDt  come  I"  Thereupon,  w« 
drove  hurriedly  back  into  the  water,  stepped  from  our 
carriages  into  the  boat,  and  returned  to  the  steamer. 

Our  return  down  the  Saguenay  convinced  me  that  the 
scenery  of  the  river  cannot  be  properly  appreciated  at  a 
single  visit.  Viewing  the  same  objects  a  second  time,  we 
found  them  markedly  grander  and  more  imposing.  The 
river  is  a  reproduction — truly  on  a  contracted  scale — of 
the  fjords  of  the  Norwegian  coast.  One  of  my  companions 
was  also  a  fellow-traveller  in  Norway  with  me  three  years 
ago,  and  was  no  less  struck  with  the  resemblance  than 
myself.  The  dark  mountains,  the  tremendous  precipices, 
the  fir  forests,  even  the  settlements  at  Ha-ha  Bay  and 
L'Anse  S,  I'Eau  (except  that  the  houses  are  white  instead 
of  red),  are  as  completely  Norwegian  as  they  can  be.  The 
Scandinavian  skippers  who  come  to  Canada  all  notice  this 
resemblance,  and  many  of  them,  I  learn,  settle  here. 

As  we  passed  again  under  the  headlands  of  Trinity  and 
Eternity,  I  tried  my  best  to  make  them  fifteen  hundred 
feet  in  height — but  without  success.  The  rock  of  Gibraltar 
and  Horseman  Island,  both  of  which  attain  that  height, 
loomed  up,  in  my  memory,  to  a  much  loftier  elevation. 
The  eye,  however,  is  likely  to  be  deceived,  when  all  the 
proportions  of  a  landscape  are  on  the  same  vast  scale ;  as  in 
St.  Peter's,  the  colossal  cherubs  which  hold  the  font, 
appear,  at  the  first  glance,  to  be  no  larger  than  children  ol 
six  years  old.  From  long  practice,  I  can  measure  heights 
and  distances  with  tolerable  accuracy  by  the  eye,  under 
ordinary  circumstances;  but  even  our  most  certain  and 
carefully-trained  faculties  are  more  or  less  influenced  bj 


TBAYSLS  AT  BOMB.  887 

habit.  The  compositor,  who  has  been  using  minion  type 
for  some  days,  knows  how  unusually  large  long  primer 
appears,  and  how  small,  after  pica.  I  have  no  doubt  but 
that  the  dimensions  of  the  Saguenay  scenery  were  some- 
what dwarfed  to  me,  by  coming  directly  from  the  White 
Mountains. 

Capt.  Howard  kindly  ran  his  boat  a  little  out  of  hei 
course,  to  give  us  the  best  view  of  Trinity  and  the  sublime 
landscape  of  Eternity  Cove.  The  wall  of  dun-colored 
syenitic  granite,  ribbed  with  vertical  streaks  of  black,  hung 
for  a  moment  directly  over  our  heads,  as  high  as  three 
Trinity  spires,  atop  of  one  another.  Westward,  the  wall 
ran  inland,  projecting  bastion  after  bastion  of  inaccessible 
rock  over  the  dark  forests  in  the  bed  of  the  valley.  A 
photographer  on  board  took  two  or  three  views,  but  no 
artist,  either  human  or  solar,  can  give  more  than  the 
faintest  hint  of  such  scenery,  because  a  near  view  is  impos- 
sible, and  the  effect  diminishes  in  geometrical  ratio  as  you 
recede. 

Leaving  the  black  water  and  the  giant  cliffs  behind  us, 
we  steamed  across  the  St.  Lawrence  to  Riviere  du  Loup, 
which  we  reached  at  dusk.  The  same  crowd  of  Canadian 
teams  waited  patiently  on  the  long  pier,  but  waited  in  vain. 
Our  captain  took  advantage  of  the  moonlight  to  continue 
his  journey,  and  we  slept  until  morning  dawned  on  the  Isle 
Aux  Coudres.  A  slight  accident  detained  us  an  hour  or 
more,  and  we  did  not  see  the  silvery  roofs  of  Quebec  until 
after  noon.  Nevertheless,  we  were  so  well  satisfied  with 
the  trip,  that  most  of  us  would  have  willingly  repeated  it. 


388  at  home  and  abroad. 

1. — Niagara,  and  its  Visitors. 

We  were  to  have  left  Montreal  at  nine  o'clock  in  th4 
evening — the  regular  hoar  for  the  starting  of  the  night 
express  on  the  Grand  Trunk  Road  ;  but,  as  the  train  from 
the  East  had  not  arrived,  ours  was  kept  waiting.  After  a 
delay  of  an  hour  and  a  half,  we  had  our  beds  made  and 
went  to  sleep.  Somewhere  near  midnight,  I  heard  the 
noise  of  departure,  mingled  with  the  swearing  of  various 
western  passengers,  who  were  anxious  to  reach  Milwaukee 
by  Sunday  morning.  There  was.  no  additional  delay  on  the 
road,  however,  and  on  reaching  Toronto  the  next  day  at 
noon,  the  train  for  Sarnia  was  found  waiting  in  the  same 
obliging  manner.  The  scenery  through  which  the  road 
passes  is  rather  tame,  with  the  exception  of  the  last  divi- 
sion, along  the  shores  of  Lake  Ontario,  where  many  a 
charming  little  bay  opens  out  between  low,  wooded  head- 
lands  and  discloses  the  blue  water  horizon. 

I  have  been  interested,  during  the  whole  progress  of  this 
trip,  in  observing  the  manners  and  peculiarities  of  travellers 
from  different  portions  of  the  United  States.  It  is  not  dif- 
ficult to  distinguish,  after  a  little  practice,  those  who  come 
from  New-England,  New- York,  Philadelphia,  the  South, 
and  the  West.  The  highest  cultivation,  of  course,  is  that 
irhich  casts  off  all  local  characteristics,  and  impresses  you 
with  the  stamp  of  an  individuality  independent  of  place, 
profession,  or  even  nationality.  Such  persons  may  be  found 
in  all  portions  of  our  country,  but  they  are  rare  apparitions. 
Nine  men  out  of  every  ten  whom  you  meet  have  an  odoi 
of  their  native  soil  about  them. 


T£AY£LS  AT  HOUS.  389 

The  i^ew-England  tourist  has  a  grave,  respectable  air. 
He  is  slightly  petulaut  with  regard  to  accommodations, 
charges,  food,  and  the  like.  His  face  is  generally  thin  (the 
iips  particularly  so),  rarely  bearded,  his  voice  even  and  ol 
little  depth  or  compass,  and  his  language  marked  with  a 
certain  precision,  betraying  a  consciousness  of,  or  at  least  a 
belief  in,  its  accuracy.  Sometimes  he  wears  gold-rimmed 
spectacles.  He  does  not  insist  upon  an  introduction  before 
speaking  to  a  fellow-traveller,  but  he  speaks  with  a  calm 
decorum,  which  says :  "  I  am  a  very  proper  person  for  you 
to  know."  This  is  his  outward  shell.  Under  it  you  will 
find  a  good  deal  of  solid  information,  a  fair  capacity  for 
enjoyment,  positive  opinions  (rather  too  much  so,  perhaps,) 
on  all  subjects,  and  a  genuine  appreciation  of  Nature, 
He  is  by  no  means  the  worst  companion  you  could  have 
on  a  journey. 

The  New-Yorker  is  mellower  and  more  demonstiative. 
He  is  also  more  flexible  in  his  nature,  fraternizes  more 
readily  with  others,  and  is  less  precise,  both  in  person  and 
speech.  Hjs  language  is  not  so  carefully  chosen,  but  his 
voice  has  more  variety  of  modulation.  He  di-esses  well, 
and  aifects  a  careless  elegance  of  appearance.  He  gene- 
rally possesses  his  own  private  enthusiasm  for  something  or 
other,  which  he  is  not  afraid  to  display.  His  philological 
peculiarity  lies  in  voice  rather  than  in  accent,  though  h« 
says  doo  instead  of  dvie^  etc.  (understand,  I  am  speaking  of 
the  average  man),  rather  oftener  than  the  New-Englander. 
He  also  pronounces  the  a  in  palm,  pass^  etc.,  a  little  closer 
4e  makes  acquaintances  with  ease,  and  forgets  them,  ditto, 
He  has  his  opinions,  but  as  he  is  not  certain  that  he  maj 


890  AT  UOKB  AND   ABBOAP. 

not  diange  them  some  time,  can  listen  oheerfolly  to  oon 
trary  views. 

Th(!  Philadelphian,  in  the  primness  of  his  deportment 
resembles  the  New-Englander.  The  Quaker  and  the  Puri 
tanic  elements  have  this  point  of  contact.  There  is  this 
difference,  however :  you  will  not  hear  the  Philadelphian 
talk  iifteeu  minutes  without  his  mentioning  Philadelphia. 
His  fiice,  though  generally  thin,  has  also  a  warmer  color, 
and  his  mouth  more  of  the  Southern  fulness.  Yet,  notwith- 
standing this,  there  is  something  pinched  and  contracted  in 
his  personality,  which  I  find  diflScult  to  describe.  Perhaps 
it  lies  mainly  in  his  voice,  which  is  thin  and  sharp.  He 
pronounces  the  a  in  palmy  cakn^  and  kindred  words,  like 
the  a  in  hM.  He  also  snubs  all  the  short  vowels,  saying 
pronmSy  spirut,  morula  fnodH^  &c. — which,  by-the-by,  is  an 
inelegance  very  general  in  the  United  States.  I  have  even 
heard  some  persons  affect  an  elegance  by  changing  the 
short  vowels  into  short  i,  as  moHl,  gospil^  iffectuil!  The 
Philadelphian  has  much  quiet  warmth  of  character.  He  is 
a  good  friend  and  a  hospitable  host.  Though  not  so  free 
and  easy  in  his  intercourse  as  a  New-Yorker,  it  does  not 
require  a  hard  knock  to  open  his  shell. 

There  are  two  classes  of  Southern  tourists.  The  first, 
fehich  you  occasionally  meet,  exhibit  a  rare  refinement  of 
character.  The  gentleman  of  this  class  is  quiet,  cultivated, 
earnest — a  little  exacting,  perhaps — and  a  specimen  of  that 
genuine  good  breeding,  which  is  natural  and  unconscious, 
And  hence  never  makes  a  mistake.  The  other  variety, 
which  is  very  common,  is  marked  by  a  bold,  swaggering 
ftir,  neglects  no  opportunity  of  assertion,  and  is  morbidlj^ 


TEAYBLS  AT  HOMB.  391 

alert  to  discover  some  ground  of  offence.  It  is  a  cunoiu 
fact  that,  during  this  trip,  whenever  I  have  heard  loud  and 
coarse  conversation  in  raihoad-cars,  swearing  at  hotel  tables, 
or  impertinent  or  offensive  criticism  of  the  place  or  country, 
the  parties  proved,  in  every  instance,  to  be  Southerners  1 
If  the  features  of  the  Southern  tourist  did  not  proclaim  hia 
nativity,  his  voice  would  at  once  betray  him.  His  accent 
almost  invariably  betrays  the  fact  that  he  has  played  with 
young  darkies,  as  a  child.  He  not  only  says — vohar  and 
thar — very  often  whah  and  thah — ^but  pore  and  shore  (for 
ipoor^  sure),  and  generally  drops  the  r  altogether,  after  the 
manner  of  an  English  exquisite.  He  cannot  say  "  master^* 
without  an  effort.  When  I  was  in  the  Navy,  a  Virginia 
captain  always  called  me  "  maus*  mate"  (master's  mate). 
The  other  day  I  was  profoundly  surprised  at  hearing  a 
young  lady,  of  a  distinguished  Southern  family,  say : 
"  Wydh^s  the  d6  !"  ■  Some  persons  pretend  to  admire  this, 
aflSrming  that  it  gives  a  softness  to  the  language — which  is 
true  ;  but  it  is  too  soft  altogether. 

The  Southerner — refined  or  vulgar — always  has  this  to 
recommend  him,  that  he  is  free,  frank,  and  companionable, 
perfectly  unreserved  in  the  expression  of  his  opinions,  though 
his  manner  be  a  little  arrogant,  and  wholly  impulsive  and 
uncalculating.  He  will  fight  and  be  reconciled  with  you 
ten  times,  while  the  New-Englander  is  slowly  making  his 
way  to  a  single,  life-long  enmity. 

The  Western  man  may  be  pretty  correctly  described,  if 
fou  know  the  latitude  in  which  he  lives.  New-England  is 
eproduced  in  Northern  Ohio,  Michigan,  and  Wisconsin ; 
New  York  in  Chicago  and  Iowa  ;  Pennsylvania  in  Southern 


392  AT   UOMB   AND    ABROAD. 

Ohio  and  the  States  west,  in  the  same  line ;  and  Virginia 
and  Kentucky  in  Southern  Illinois  and  Missouri.  He  has 
no  especial  characteristics  except  a  certain  restlessness  in 
his  manner  and  an  expansive  use  of  adjectives  in  his  talk, 
lie  has  a  great  habit  of  saying,  "  That's  so !"  and  his  loca- 
tion is  denoted  by  the  use  of  peculiar  words  and  phrases 
rather  thatt  any  distinctive  peculiarity  of  accent.  He  has  a 
rampant  pride  in  his  own  particular  city,  and  county,  and 
state,  and  our  Atlantic  communities  seem  "  slow"  to  him. 
He  is  the  most  demonstrative  of  Americans,  and  you  never 
need  to  ask  a  second  time  for  his  opinion.  He,  as  well  as 
the  Southerner,  is  apt  to  chew  tobacco,  and  he  prefers 
Bourbon  to  Yerzenay.  He  does  not  object  to  a  community 
of  towel  and  hair-brush  in  hotels — ^in  fact,  he  is  easily  satis- 
fied, and  generally  of  a  very  cheerful  and  jovial,  tempera- 
ment. 

I  have  only  given  a  few  general  indications,  and  msh  it 
to  be  distinctly  imderstood  that  they  are  meant  for  classes, 
and  not  individuals.  The  manners  of  the  travelling  public 
have  greatly  improved  since  I  made  my  first  summer  trip, 
thirteen  years  ago,  and  in  this  particular  there  is  not  much 
difference  between  the  different  sections  of  the  country, 
the  provincialisms  of  speech  and  habits,  however,  are  not  so 
easily  obliterated. 

We  stopped  at  Toronto  in  order  to  take  the  afternoon 
boat  across  the  lake  to  Lewiston.  Our  baggage  having 
been  sent  to  the  landing-place  half  an  hour  before  the 
departure  of  the  steamer,  we  were  called  upon  to  pay  a 
wharfage  fee  of  twenty  cents.  "  If  you  had  come  hi  a  car- 
riage," said  the  agent  (or  whoever  he  was),  "  there  would 


TBA.VELS   AT   HOME.  393 

have  been  no  charge  !"  This  is  a  refinement  of  extortioD 
worthy  of  a  better  field  of  action. 

A  mirage  lifted  the  southern  shore  of  the  Ontario  tc 
dew,  so  clearly  that  we  could  distinguish  single  trees.  A 
gentleman  informed  me  that  the  spray-cloud  of  Niagara  is 
sometimes  visible  at  Toronto.  We  had  a  lovely  but  windy 
afternoon  for  the  transit,  and  the  beryl-colored  waters  of 
the  lake  were  so  rough  that  a  pale  and  wretched  looking 
crowd  appeared  on  the  deck,  as  we  ran  into  the  mouth  of 
Niagara  River.  I  was  glad  for  the  sake  of  my  friends,  that 
we  had  chosen  this  avenue  of  approach  to  the  Falls.  The 
picturesque  shores  of  the  river,  the  splendid  green  of  the 
water,  and  the  lofty  line  of  the  upper  plateau  in  front, 
crowned  with  Brock's  Monument,  and  divided  by  the  dark, 
yawning  gorge  of  Niagara,  form  a  fitting  vestibule  to  the 
grand  adytum  beyond.  The  railroad,  climbing  rapidly 
from  the  station  behind  Lewiston,  piercing  the  rocky  bluff 
and  boldly  skirting  the  tremendous  abyss,  commands  a 
complete  view  of  the  river — with  the  exception  of  the  bend 
at  the  Whirlpool — from  the  lake  to  the  Falls.  The  chasm 
gi'ows  wilder,  deeper,  and  more  precipitous  with  every 
mile,  until  having  seen  the  Suspension  Bridge  apparently 
floating  in  air,  on  your  right,  you  look  ahead,  and  two 
miles  off",  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  emerald  orest  of  Niagara 
standing  fast  and  fixed  above  its  shifting  chaos  of  snowy 
spray ! 

I  have  seen  the  Falls  in  all  weathers,  and  in  all  seasons, 
but  to  my  mind  the  winter  view  is  most  beautiful.  I  saw 
them  first  during  the  hard  winter  of  1854,  when  a  hundred 
cataracts  of  ice  hung  from  the  cliffs  on  either  side,  when 


394  AT    HOMB   i^JfU   ABBOAB. 

the  masses  of  ice  brought  down  from  Lake  Erie  wen 
wedged  together  at  the  foot,  uniting  the  shores  with  a 
rugged  bridge,  and  when  every  twig  of  every  tree  and 
bush  on  Goat  Island  was  overlaid,  an  inch  deep,  with  a 
coating  of  solid  crystal.  The  air  was  still,  and  the  sun 
shone  in  a  cloudless  sky.  The  green  of  the  fall,  set  in  a 
landscape  of  sparkling  silver,  was  infinitely  more  brilliant 
than  in  summer,  when  it  is  balanced  by  the  trees,  and  th? 
rainbows  were  almost  too  glorious  for  the  eye  to  bear.  I 
was  not  impressed  by  the  sublimity  of  the  scene,  nor  even 
by  its  terror,  but  solely  by  the  fascination  of  its  wonderful 
beauty — a  fascination  which  continually  tempted  me  to 
plunge  into  that  sea  of  fused  emerald  and  lose  myself  in 
the  dance  of  the  rainbows.  With  each  succeeding  visit, 
Niagara  has  grown  in  height,  in  power,  in  majesty,  in 
solemnity ;  but  I  have  seen  its  climax  of  beauty. 

To  my  friends,  it  is  all  they  had  been  promised,  and 
more ;  and  I  have  enjoyed  anew,  in  their  enjoyment,  the 
views  from  the  rocks,  the  delicious  walks  on  Goat  Island, 
the  bewildering  pictures  of  the  rapids,  and  the  stunning 
roar  and  ceaseless  rain  at  the  bottom.  I  watched  by  the 
hour,  the  piling  up  and  sliding  away  of  the  huge  masses  of 
water,  the  downward  blossoming  into  vast,  umbelliferoua 
flowers  of  spray,  the  cloudy  whirl  and  confusion  below, 
and  the  endless,  endless  motion  through  the  same  unchang- 
ing forms,  with  a  delight,  which,  it  seems  to  me,  could  not 
be  wearied  out  in  a  lifetime.  Of  course,  we  have  taken  a 
trip  i»i  the  "  Maid  of  the  Mist,"  gone  behind  the  sheet,  and 
done  everything  else  that  is  usually  done  (and  lei  me  say, 
»1I  ol  them  are  worth  doing).    Niagara  is  a  diamond  with  a 


TRAVELS  AT  HCIU.  395 

hundred  facets,  every  one  of  which  reflects  a  different 
lustre. 

One  is  rather  bored  here  by  the  Indian  cariosities  an^ 
the  solicitous  hack-drivers.  The  articles  in  fluor  spar,  how 
ever,  are  beautiful,  and  the  photographic  illustrations  are 
oomraendable.  The  gratitude  of  every  visitor  is  due  to 
Mr.  Porter,  and  the  other  proprietors  of  Goat  Island,  for 
the  pious  care  with  which  its  glorious  sylvan  beauty  is  pr^ 
served.  Fancy  Goat  Island  given  up  to  speculators,  and 
crammed  with  hotels  and  factories  !  I  have  now  and  then 
seen  an  ill-natured  remark,  on  account  of  the  moderate 
toll  charged  for  crossing  the  bridge ;  but  the  entire  amoimt 
received  in  this  manner  cannot  much  more  than  suffice  to 
pay  for  the  necessary  repairs  of  the  roads,  bridges,  stair- 
oases,  and  tower.  I  have  never  paid  a  fee  more  cheerfully, 
and  every  sensible  visitor  would  rather  double  it  than  see 
one  of  the  loveliest  bits  of  God's  creation  spoiled. 

It  is  a  little  singular  that  all  the  poetry  written  about 
Niagara,  from  Brainard's  pious  effusion  to  Saxe's  profane 
lyric,  should  be  so  common-place.  The  best  of  all  is  tha* 
of  Lord  Carlisle.     Brainard  commences  awkwardly  >~ 

"  The  thoughts  are  strange  that  crowd  into  my  bram, 
As  I  gaze  upward  to  thee." 

What  good  does  it  to  us,  simply  to  know  thj»», 
thoughts  are  "strange?"  Grenville  Mellen  concludes  a 
similar  rhapsody  by  exclaiming:  "Oh,  go  in!"  Very 
well :  but  suppose  you  set  us  the  example !  Mr.  Bulkley 
Das  written  an  epic,  which  is  too  much  on  the  subject.  If 
it  were  boiled  down  to  two  hundred  lines,  we  should  get  a 


396  AT  HOMB  AND  ABBCAD. 

good  concentrated  flavor.  The  distinguishing  characteristie 
of  Niagara — its  color — ^has  been  mentioned,  I  believe,  by 
but  one  poet,  Lowell,  who  says — 

"  And  green  Niagara's  never-ending  roar." 

As  for  people  saying  "  It  cannot  be  described,"  that  if 
folly.  It  can  be  described  just  as  much  as  anything  else. 
But  those  who  endeavor  to  be  sublime  are  often  simply 
highfalutin :  when  a  man  says,  "  I  am  overpowered,"  he  is 
not  in  a  fit  state  to  write ;  but  he  who  looks  calmly  upon 
it,  measures  its  features,  analyses  the  impression  which  it 
creates,  and  writes  with  the  conscientious  endeavor  to 
represent  what  he  has  seen,  can  give  as  good  a  description 
of  Niagara  as  he  could  of  a  crab-tree  in  blossom,  and  a 
much  better  one  than  it  would  be  possible  for  him  to  make 
of  the  woman  whom  he  loves. 

I  read  last  "Winter,  in  one  of  the  papers,  a  most  admirable 
description  of  the  falling  of  the  water,  entitled,  "  Niagara, 
but  Not  Described !''  The  writer  knew  all  the  time  he 
was  describing  it. 


8. — ^Tbenton  Falls  aot)  Saratoga. 

At  Niagara  our  party  dissolved.  On  Tuesday  night  my 
Grerman  friend  took  the  midnight  train  westward,  intend- 
ing to  visit  Minnesota,  Missouri,  and  Kentucky,  and  on  the 
following  morning  accompanying  the  ladies  as  far  as  Utica. 
w^hence  they  continued  the  homeward  journey,  I  turned 
aside  for  a  soUtary  excursion  to  Trenton  Falls, 


TEAVELS   AT   HOMB.  391 

The  New  York  Central,  after  leaving  the  Mohawk  Val- 
ey,  seems  to  avoid  all  the  best  scenery.  I  have  frequently 
noticed  how  completely  the  landscapes  change,  when  you 
have  gone  but  a  few  miles  either  to  the  north  or  the  south 
of  the  road.  The  immediate  neighborhood  of  Utica  is 
rather  tame,  but,  on  taking  the  Black  River  train  it  pre- 
sently assumes  a  charming  pastoral  character,  which  verges 
into  the  picturesque  as  you  approach  Trenton.  In  an  hour 
I  was  put  down  at  the  station,  where  omnibuses  were  in 
waiting  to  carry  us  to  Moore's  Hotel,  a  mile  distant.  "  la 
the  hotel  full  ?"  I  asked  of  the  driver.  "  Oh,  no,"  said  he ; 
"  there  is  plenty  of  room ;"  but,  on  arriving,  I  found  it 
oveiiiowing  with  guests,  and  no  place  to  be  had.  I  was 
fortunate  enough,  however,  to  find  quarters  at  Joy's,  near 
at  hand,  and  after  admiring  the  beauty  and  seclusion  of 
the  valley  for  half  an  hour,  set  out  in  search  of  my  friend 
Hicks. 

It  was  the  night  of  the  ftiU  moon,  and  the  guests  at 
Moore's  had  sent  to  the  Wide-Awake  Club  of  Utica  to 
borrow  torches  for  a  nocturnal  visit  to  the  glen.  Mr. 
Moore,  whose  acquaintance  I  had  made  in  Hicks's  studio, 
the  artist  and  his  wife,  and  a  merry  company  of  at  least  a 
hundred  ladies  and  gentlemen,  were  preparing  to  go,  and  1 
con<rralulated  myself  on  arriving  in  season  to  join  them 
We  started  a  little  after  nine  o'clock,  taking  the  path 
which  leads  through  the  forest  to  the  top  of  the  High  Fall. 
The  straggling  procession,  at  least  two  hundred  yards 
long,  with  its  line  of  brilliant  lights,  winding  through  the 
dense  shadows  of  the  wood,  produced  a  magical  effect 
Sray  trunks  and  hanging  boughs  flashed  out  for  a  moment 


398  AT   HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

in  golden  lustre  against  the  darkness,  and  then  as  suddenly 
vanished  ;  red  shawls  glimmered  splendidly  through  the 
dusky  green ;  white  dresses  danced  in  and  out  of  the  gapa 
of  moonlight  with  an  elfish  motion,  and  a  confusion  ot 
shouts  and  laughter  rang  through  the  echoing  hollows. 

The  moon  stood  over  the  gorge,  which,  as  we  approached, 
seemed  filled  with  a  silvery  mist,  beyond  which  rose  the 
shadowy  outline  of  the  opposite  bank.  The  crest  of  the 
cataract  shone  with  sparkles  of  whitt  fire,  and  dim,  shoot- 
ing gleams  hovered  over  the  gulf  into  which  it  fell.  The 
leaves  of  the  overhanging  boughs  were  cut  as  clearly  as 
bronze  against  this  wonderful  picture.  It  was  lovely 
enough  to  have  been  a  grot  in  the  gardens  of  Calypso  or 
Armida.  Many  of  the  company  went  down  the  rocks  to 
the  foot  of  the  fall,  and  saw  it  through  the  rainbows  of  the 
moon  ;  but  1  preferred  preserving  my  first  view  until  sun- 
rise. 

The  next  morning  I  accompanied  the  artist  in  a  ramble 
over  his  farm,  which  lies  on  the  eastern  side  of  Canada 
Creek  about  half  a  mile  below  the  village.  "We  com- 
pared agricultural  notes,  and  set  off  the  advantages  of  our 
respective  farms,  one  against  the  other.  I  was  willing 
to  concede  the  superiority  of  his  elms  and  hemlocks,  but 
balanced  them  with  my  oaks  and  tulip  trees.  His  potatoes 
and  pumpkins  looked  promising,  but  I  had  very  fine 
■quashes  and  tomatoes  at  home.  I  had,  moreover,  the 
climate  of  the  passion-flower  and  magnolia,  of  the  Hima- 
layan deodar,  the  Cedar  of  Lebanon,  and  the  cypress.  So, 
although  I  admired  the  fine  cnrves  of  the  surrounding 
hills,  the  excellence  of  the  tree-forms,  and,  most  of  sJ\ 


TBAVELS    AT   HOMK.  399 

the  amber  beauty  of  the  river,  I  was  well  satisfied  with  my 
own  piece  of  earth.  So  was  he  with  his,  and  with  good 
reason. 

We  then  made  the  round  of  the  Falls,  entering  the  glee 
fi-om  below,  and  ascending  it  for  a  distance  of  nearly  two 
miles,  to  a  point  marked  "Dangerous,"  beyond  whicli 
there  is  no  path.  It  was  the  loveliest  possible  day — one  of 
those  bright,  laughing  days  which  give  an  additional  color 
and  sparkle  to  the  earth.  The  sun  was  high  enough  to 
illuminate  the  deep  glen  from  end  to  end,  leaving  shadows 
only  where  the  rocks  overhung  their  bases,  or  the  trees 
reached  their  arms  from  opposite  sides,  as  if  vainly  striving 
to  clasp  hands.  The  water,  also,  was  at  its  most  favorable 
stage — ^low  enough  to  leave  the  path  bare,  yet  high  enough  to 
cover  the  whole  breadth  of  rocky  ledges  where  it  falls. 
With  a  guide  who  had  studied  the  glen  for  ten  years  with 
an  artist's  eye,  and  knew  it  in  all  its  aspects,  I  was  justified 
in  considering  that  I  saw  Trenton  under  the  most  fevor- 
able  circumstances. 

What  particularly  struck  me  was  the  originality — ^the 
uniquity  of  the  place.  The  glen,  or  rather  crack  through 
which  the  stream  runs,  is  three  miles  long,  and  not  more 
than  two  hundred  feet  deep  at  any  point.  It  has  been  cut, 
by  the  action  of  water  during  thousands  of  years,  through 
a  bed  of  mica  slate,  disposed  in  nearly  horizontal  strata. 
The  sides,  therefore,  while  they  are  perpendicular  for  near- 
ly  the  whole  distance,  present  a  great  number  of  shelves  or 
ledges,  which  furnish  root-hold  to  ferns,  wild  flowers,  shrubs, 
or  even  trees,  according  to  their  size,  while  an  unbroken 
,^ood— a   charming   mixture  of  evergreen  and  deciduoni 


400  AT  HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

trees — crowns  the  summits.  Add  that  the  glen  is  full  of 
corners,  turning  this  way  and  that,  leading  you  now  intc 
black  cauldrons,  wet  with  eternal  spray,  now  into  long, 
sunny  avenues,  where  the  water  dances  as  if  possessed  with 
the  spirit  of  joy,  and  you  may  judge  what  a  gallery  of  wild 
and  lovely  pictures  is  here  concealed. 

The  color  of  the  water,  again,  is  an  unusual  element  of 
beauty.  "Amber"  perhaps  describes  it  better  than  any 
other  word,  but  it  runs  through  all  tints  from  topaz  to  the 
richest  and  deepest  Vandyke-brown.  Maria  Lowell,  in  one 
of  her  poems,  calls  it  "  fretted  Sherry."  In  the  falls,  the 
color  has  a  warm,  glassy  lustre  at  the  top,  shading  off 
through  the  successive  frills  of  spray,  until  it  vanishes  into 
white  at  the  bottom.  Owing  to  this  color,  the  water 
appears  to  assume  an  astonishing  variety  of  forms,  but  1 
presume  it  is  only  because  the  forms  are  distinctly  marked, 
more  apparent  to  the  eye.  I  have  noticed  the  same  effect 
m  the  bright,  green  water  of  the  Trollhatta  Fall,  in  Swe- 
den. To  be  sure,  the  angles  of  the  glen  and  the  various 
positions  in  which  the  rocky  shelves  are  disposed,  are  suffi- 
cient to  produce  every  form  of  water,  except  that  airy 
lace-work  which  is  only  seen  in  falls  of  great  height.  Here 
it  falls  forty  feet  in  one  unbroken  sheet ;  there  slides  down 
an  inclined  plane  in  a  smooth  mass  splendidly  feathei-ed  at 
the  edges,  shoots  under  or  over  another  watery  slide,  or 
whirls  in  gleaming  curves  around  a  semi-basin  worn  in  the 
rocks. 

Some  of  the  visitors  spoke  of  the  rage  of  the  water.  To 
me  it  was  not  rage,  but  joy — a  mad  Bacchanalian  revel; 
»nd  the  resemblance  to  wine  strengthened  the  impression 


TRAVELS   AT  HOME.  401 

The  path,  which  has  the  fascinating  appearance  of  danger, 
without  being  dangerous,  leads  you  along  narrow  ledges,  on 
the  very  verge  of  the  whirlpools  and  cauldrons ;  so  near 
he  falls,  that  the  rainbow  surrounds  you  hke  a  dazzling 
ossamer,  and  its  red  and  gold  smite  you  in  the  eyes.  The 
ourists  and  guide-books  make  comparisons  between  Tren 
on  and  Niagara,  but  no  comparison  is  possible.  They  are 
as  unlike  as  Homer  and  Anacreon. 

I  went  further,  the  next  day,  simply  to  have  one  look  at 
the  Summer  life  of  Saratoga :  "  To  see  the  stir,  and  not 
feel  the  crowd.''  I  find  it  delightfully  gay  and  pleasant  to 
look  upon,  and  can  easily  understand  why  the  fashionable 
world  continues  to  drink  of  Congress  Water,  in  spite  of  the 
superior  natural  attractions  of  other  places.  The  park  is 
agreeable,  the  springs  unequalled  of  their  kind,  the  drives 
in  the  neighborhood  charming,  the  lake  accessible,  and,  not 
least,  the  hotels  can  accommodate  their  thousands  without 
crowding.  The  village  itself  is  hot  and  dusty,  but  there  is 
shade  everywhere ;  and  the  long  colonnades  of  the  hotel 
furnish  the  ladies  with  an  enviable  opportunity  for  dis- 
play. I  think  I  could  spend  an  entire  week  here  without 
getting  tired. 

I  have  done  nothing  but  walk  up  and  down  and  contem- 
plate the  multitude.     In  this  survey  two  things  have  parti 
cularly  struck  me — the  absence  of  marked  intelligence  o 
tiltivation  in  the  faces  of  the  gentlemen,  and  the  abseno 
of  beauty  in  the  feces  of  the  ladies.     Among  the  former 
the  trading  and  stock-jobbing  type  predominates.    There  ia 
speculation  in  the  eyes,  railroad  bonds  are  written  upon 
the  brow,  and  mortgages  are  buttoned  tightly  imder  I*-* 


f02  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

waistcoat,  on  the  left  side.  In  the  fragments  of  convena 
tion  which  reached  my  ears,  one  of  the  words  "  stocks,*^ 
"Board,"  "par,"  "Douglas,''  " Breckenridge,"  or  "lin. 
coin,"  invariably  occurred.  Black  is  the  prevailing  color. 
The  cool,  light  tints,  so  well  adapted  for  the  negligee  of  a 
watering-place,  are  very  rare.  The  hats  are  mostly  of  the 
itove-pipe  pattern.  In  short,  the  aspect  of  the  male  crowd 
shows  that  a  struggle  is  going  on  between  the  desire  for 
recreation  and  the  endeavor  to  retain  the  old,  respectable, 
hard-money  air. 

The  ladies,  to  my  surprise,  are  not  gorgeously  ovei 
dressed.  Here  and  there  you  see  a  dame  at  the  Congrese 
Springs  in  moiri  and  jewels,  but  the  majority  affect  an  ele- 
gant simpUcity  which  is  highly  becoming.  At  a  hop  last 
evening  I  found  much  more  taste  in  costume  than  I  had 
anticipated.  Yet  as  I  said  before,  there  is  a  striking  ab 
sence  of  beauty.  I  see  many  pleasant  and  some  handsome 
faces,  but  very,  very  few  which  can  be  called  beautiful.  Ii< 
such  a  Vanity  Fair  as  this,  I  had  supposed  that  the  reverse 
would  have  been  true.  Saiatoga  is  our  Ranelagh,  but  th« 
stock  on  hand  this  year  may  be  inferior  to  that  of  ordinary 
seasons.  There  is  possibly  less  demand,  as  one  notices  little 
flirtation  going  on. 

As  for  the  manners  of  such  a  place,  there  is  not  much  to 
be  said.  You  find  all  the  classes — the  refined,  the  snobbish, 
and  the  vulgar — which  enter  into  the  composition  of  ali 
society.  The  rich  families  have  the  best  rooms  and  are  best 
served  at  the  table  (they  fee  the  waiters  heaviest) ;  the 
more  moderate  take  the  odds  and  ends  of  accommodation;, 
there  are  clans  and  cliques  and  jealousies  as  elsewhere;  coft 


TSAYXLS  AT   HOMK.  401 

quests  and  triumphs,  hatred,  fidelity,  infidelity,  love,  mar 
riage,  divorce  and  death.  The  tragedy  of  life  dances  in 
the  same  set  with  its  comedy.  The  gentlemen  have  their 
side  of  the  veranda,  where  they  sit  in  arm-chdrs,  read  the 
New  York  papers,  smoke,  and  cock  up  their  feet  on  th« 
railing ;  and  the  ladies  theirs,  where  they  spread  their  teii- 
der-tinted  skirts,  flutter  their  fans,  bend  their  swan-like 
necks,  and  exchange  sweet  inuendoes.  Outwardly,  all  is 
gay,  innocent,  cheerful,  fashionably  Arcadian  (which  con- 
sists in  turning  all  out-of-doors  into  a  drawing-room) — but 
I  could  wish,  for  my  own  private  benefit,  that,  as  in  the 
shapes  of  the  Hall  of  Eblis,  there  was  a  pane  of  glass  in- 
serted in  every  bosom,  showing  the  currents  of  the  true 
and  hidden  life.  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  should  find — ^mak- 
ing all  allowance  for  education  and  associations — Human 
Nature. 

I  have  said  that  this  crowd  is  delightful  to  look  upon.   So 
It  b ;  but  we  all  enjoy  the  vanities  of  the  world. 


VL 

PERSONAL  SKETCHES. 


1. — The   Leslies. 

Owe  of  the  first  stories  1  remember  to  have  read,  as  a 
cnild,  was  "  Mrs.  Washington  Potts,"  by  Miss  Eliza  Leslie 
It  was  in  the  days  when  "  Atkinson's  Casket"  flourished, 
and  The  Saturday  Evening  Post  was  considered  a  standard 
literary  paper — at  least  among  the  people  whom  I  knew. 
Miss  Leslie  had  then  been  known  for  many  years  as  a  writer 
of  stories,  which,  from  their  covert  humor  and  their  plain, 
homely  presentation  of  everyday  characters,  were  very 
generally  popular.  Her  model — if  she  had  one — must  have 
been  Maria  Edgeworth,  but  she  had  a  fund  of  humor,  and 
an  appreciation  of  the  comic  and  the  grotesque,  which  was 
all  her  own.  Something  of  Flemish  fidelity  belonged  to  hei 
descriptive  style,  but  it  was  always  subordinate  to  her  taste. 
Though  she  often  introduced  vulgar  characters,  she  never 
described  them  vulgarly.     I  have  never  since  been  mort 


PEBSOKAL   SKETCHES.  405 

amused  and  entertained  by  any  stories  than  by  those  from 
her  pen,  which  I  read  in  my  boyhood,  as  they  appeared  ir 
the  weekly  paper. 

In  1844,  when  I  became  ambitions  to  make  myself  known 
as  an  author,  and  published  a  thin  volume  of  untimely 
poems,  Miss  Leslie  was  one  of  the  first  persons  to  whom  I 
sent  a  copy,  and  her  cordial  letter  in  acknowledgment  waa 
one  of  the  first  voices  of  encouragement  which  reached  me. 
She  treated  my  first  crude  eflforts  more  kindly  and  conside- 
rately than,  I  fear,  I  should  be  able  to  do,  in  a  similar  case. 
With  this  admission,  I  venture  to  quote  a  passage  from  her 
letter : 

"  Whenever  I  meet  with  any  new  evidence  of  the  genius 
of  my  countrymen,  it  renders  me  superlatively  happy  for 
that  day,  and,  fortunately,  these  days  of  happiness  are  be- 
coming more  and  more  numerous.  So,  in  reading  your 
book,  I  rejoiced  that  there  was 

One  poet  more,  America,  for  theel' 

"  When  you  again  visit  Philadelphia,  I  shall  be  very  glad 
to  see  you  at  the  Markoe  House  (my  present  residence), 
and  to  show  you  an  admirable  portrait  of  Franklin,  copied 
from  the  last  and  best  likeness  of  the  statesman,  the  patriot, 
the  philosopher,  and  the  printer :  the  man  who  has  always 
seemed  to  me  as  the  most  American  of  Americans — or 
rather,  who  was  completely  what  an  American  ought 
to  be." 

When  I  next  visited  Philadelphia,  I  called  upon  her,  and 
.vas  received  with  genuine  kindness.  She  was  then  nearly 
sixty  yeai-s  of  age,  but  hale  and  robust,  with  a  face  attrao- 


406  AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

tive  in  spite  of  its  plainness,  and  a  cheerful,  merry  light  it 
her  gray  eyes.  Something  I  said  suggested  to  her  t 
humorous  story,  which  she  told  with  a  hearty  relish.  The 
portrait  of  Franklin  was  painted  by  her  sister  Anne,  and 
she  remarked,  on  stating  this :  "  We  are  a  family  of  paint- 
ers. Perhaps  you  have  heard  of  my  brother  Charles,  who 
lives  in  London,"  It  chanced  that  I  had  seen  engravings 
of  Leslie's  pictures  from  Don  Quixote  and  the  Merry 
"Wives  of  Windsor,  but  I  was  not  before  aware  of  the 
relationship. 

Miss  Leslie  gave  me  some  friendly  advice  in  relation  to 
poetry,  which  was  another  illustration  of  her  sound  sense. 
"I  see,"  said  she, "  that  you  have  been  reading  Mr8,Heraans. 
Pray  don't  be  led  by  her  irregular  anapaestic  metres  to  for- 
get that  the  simplest  forms  of  versification  are  the  best. 
Those  jingling,  slipshod  measures  seem  to  me  to  have  been 
invented  to  conceal  the  lack  of  poetical  conceptions.  Look 
at  Milton,  Pope,  Gray,  and  Goldsmith,  how  simple  and 
straightforward  are  their  styles !  The  plainest  words  are 
also  the  best.  *  England'  is  much  finer  than  '  Albion,'  and 
'  Scotland'  than  '  Caledonia,' "  Of  course,  I  did  not  quite 
agree  with  her,  then  ;  but  the  evident  kindness  with  which 
her  views  were  presented  led  me  to  ponder  upon  them  after- 
wards, and  to  find  that  she  was  right. 

After  my  return  from  Europe  in  1846,  I  vifflted  her  fre- 
quently. Among  our  passengers  in  the  packet  from 
London  through  the  Channel  to  Portsmouth,  had  been 
Mr,  Robert  Leslie,  son  of  the  painter,  and  himself  a  painter 
also.  He  was  a  tall  young  man  of  twenty-two,  and  spent 
most  of  bis  time  on  deck,  making  searsketches  in  water 


PEESONAL  SKETCHES.  407 

colors.  Our  captain,  Morgan,  had  taken  the  Leslie  family 
to  and  from  America,  when  the  painter  received  his  appomt- 
ment  to  the  Professorship  at  West  Point,  and  was  still  hi* 
intimate  friend.  Miss  Leslie  had  therefore  many  qaestiona 
to  ask  concerning  her  nephew,  but  in  the  same  summer,  ] 
believe,  he  visited  America.  Li  February,  1847,  she  wrote 
to  me :  "  I  hear  you  are  publishing  a  weekly  paper.  You 
will  please  to  send  it  to  my  address :  I  inclose  the  amount 
of  a  year's  subscription."  It  was  a  country  paper,  devoted 
to  local  news,  and  could  have  no  possible  interest  for  her — 
but  she  doubtless  conjectured,  as  was  true,  that  I  was 
endeavoring  to  establish  myself  in  business,  and  that  every 
paid  subscription  was  a  real  assistance.  I  have  heard  that 
she  made  enemies  by  her  frankness  and  her  scorn  of  all  dis- 
simulation :  she  reserved  her  tact  for  the  exercise  of  her 
kindness. 

Between  five  and  six  years  later,  I  was  in  London  for  the 
fourth  time,  having  just  returned  from  the  Orient,  previous 
to  making  an  overland  journey  to  India.  I  was  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  be  present  at  an  entertainment  given  one  evening 
by  Mr.  George  Peabody,  at  which  some  hundreds  of  English 
and  Americans  attended.  While  conversing  with  Mr.  Ab- 
bott Lawrence,  a  short  and  rather  slender  man,  with  gray 
hair  and  a  singularly  mild,  pleasant,  and  benevolent  face, 
came  up  and  addressed  him  with  much  cordiality,  "  Let  me 
introduce  you  to  Mr.  Leslie,  whom  you  must  know  already 
as  an  artist,"  said  Mr.  Lawrence,  turning  to  me.  We  found 
a  little  eddy  in  the  apartment,  outside  of  the  crush  of  the 
crowd,  and  I  enjoyed  some  quiet  conversation  with  him. 
The  portriut  accompanying  the  recently  published  biogr* 


408  AT  SOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

phy  gives  the  character  and  expression  of  his  face  very  cor 
rectly,  althougli  he  was  considerably  older  at  the  time  I  met 
bim.  All  conventionalities  were  dropped  on  his  learning 
of  the  friendship  existing  between  his  sister  and  myself,  and 
ae  questioned  me  with  an  eager  interest  concerning  het 
and  his  Philadelphia  friends. 

On  learning  that  I  was  a  native  of  Chester  comity,  he 
said  :  "  Ah,  I  know  the  Brandywine.  I  spent  several  sum 
mers  on  its  banks,  as  a  boy,"  "  Is  it  still  beautiful  to  you, 
in  memory  ?"  I  asked.  "  As  beautiful  as  the  reality  can 
possibly  be,"  was  his  answer;  "I  remember  the  scenery 
distinctly,  and  I  often  recall  the  happy  days  I  passed,  ram- 
bling over  the  hills."  "  Do  you  not  think,"  said  I,  "  that 
the  landscapes  of  that  part  of  Pennsylvania  bear  a  wonder- 
ful resemblance  to  those  of  England  ?"  "  Yes,  but  with  a 
wilder,  richer  character.  However,  it  is  many  years  since 
I  saw  them.  I  have  been  so  long  in  England  that  my  early 
life  in  America  seems  scarcely  to  belong  to  me."  From 
the  fondness  with  which  the  artist  returned  to  the  subject, 
it  was  evident  that  those  early  associations  still  retained  all 
their  charm. 

He  invited  me  to  visit  his  house  and  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  his  family,  which  the  shortness  of  my  stay  in  Lon- 
don prevented  me  from  doing;  but  I  met  him,  together 
with  two  of  his  daughters,  at  the  house  of  another  Ameri- 
can banker,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  city.  His  person- 
ality  gave  the  impression  of  a  very  frank  and  simple  nature, 
great  sweetness  of  disposition,  and  a  warm,  faithful  heart. 
His  voice  was  low  and  agreeable,  and  I  associate  it  some 
now,  in  memory,  with  that  of  Leigh  Hunt,     Between  him 


PBBSOMAL   SKBl'CHBS.  409 

self  and  his  daughters  there  was  an  aflfectiouate  tendernesa 
and  a  reciprocal  pride  which  was  delightful  to  see.  Ilia 
life,  indeed,  was  a  smooth  stream,  having,  truly,  a  few  ob- 
stacles at  the  start,  but  flowing  afterwards  through  pleasant 
fields. 

Leslie  was  especially  fortunate  in  this  respect,  that  he 
knew  the  exact  measure  of  his  powers.  His  "  Clifford  and 
Rutland"  is  the  only  picture  of  his  in  the  grand  historic 
manner  which  I  have  seen — a  manner  which  he  speedily 
dropped,  devoting  himself,  thenceforth,  to  those  exquisite 
cabinet  pictures  in  which  he  had  no  living  superior.  He 
painted,  I  should  judge,  with  great  rapidity,  first  arranging 
and  afterwards  finishing,  with  scrupulous  care.  His  "  San- 
cho  Panza  and  the  Duchess"  happened  to  be  in  the  same 
room  with  Church's  "Niagara"  in  London,  and  even  the 
dazzle  of  the  fragment  of  rainbow,  in  the  latter,  could  not 
touch  its  soft,  subtle  harmony  of  coloring. 

He  was  a  member  of  the  Sketch  Club,  the  products  of 
two  meetings  whereof  are  in  the  possession  of  Captain  Mor- 
gan, who,  as  an  honorary  member,  was  present,  and  gave 
the  subject.  This  Club  met  by  turns  at  the  houses  of  the 
members,  one  of  whom  named  a  subject,  which  the  artists 
were  obliged  to  represent  in  two  hours.  The  result  attained 
by  this  was  a  marvellous  rapidity  both  of  conception  and 
execution.  Capt.  Morgan  gave  "  Night,"  and  Leslie's  con- 
tribution is  a  very  spirited  sketch  of  Titania  and  Bottom 
Stanfield,  Roberts,  and  others  furnished  moonlit  landscapes. 
The  Queen,  I  was  told,  doubting  the  ability  of  the  artists 
lo  improvise  with  such  rapidity,  asked  permission  to  give  a 
subject  one  evening.    The  artists  assented,  and  at  the  ap 


410  AT  HOMB  AND  ABROAD. 

pointed  hour  received  a  slip  of  paper  on  which  the  word 
"  Desire"  was  written.  A  page  was  in  waiting,  and  two 
hours  afterwards  Her  Majesty  was  furnished  with  a  dozen 
handsome  illustrations  of  the  theme.  Leslie's,  I  believe, 
was  a  boy  reaching  from  the  edge  of  a  pond,  after  water 
lilies. 


2. — ^Thb  Brownings. 

Few  of  the  thousands  who  now  place  the  poems  of  Eli. 
zabeth  Barrett  Browning  in  the  niche  devoted  to  their 
favorite  authors,  are  aware  that  she  first  became  known  to 
American  readers  as  a  contributor  to  Cfrahani's  Magazine. 
In  the  volumes  of  that  periodical  for  1841,  '42,  and  '43, 
they  will  find  her  "  Child  and  Watcher,"  "  Sleep,''  "  Cata- 
rina  to  Camoens,"  and  many  other  of  her  minor  poems. 
I  think  it  was  Poe  who  was  first  to  recognize  a  genius 
hitherto  unknown,  but  destined  to  a  speedy  and  permanent 
popularity.  Her  power  (so  rare  an  element  in  femal« 
poets),  fulness,  tenderness,  and  the  haunting  music  of  hei 
verses,  which  an  occasional  roughness  only  made  more  pro 
minent,  were  at  once  acknowledged.  In  fact  her  America! 
reputation  was  coeval  with,  if  it  did  not  precede,  tha* 
which  she  has  won  at  home. 

Nearly  thirteen  years  ago,  I  heard  a  young  lady,  whos* 
pure  Greek  profile  and  exquisite  voice  can  never  be  forgot 
ten  by  those  who  saw  and  heard  her,  recite  "  Count  Gis 
mond.''  The  wonderful  dramatic  truth  of  this  poem — a 
i<ruth  which   disdains  all    explanations   and   accessories— 


PBE80NAL  SKBTCIIBS.  411 

•truck  me  like  a  new  revelation,  and  I  eagerly  inquired  the 
name  of  the  author.  "  It  is  a  new  English  poet,  named 
Browning,"  was  the  answer.  I  then  remembered  having 
seen  reviews  of  his  "  Bells  and  Pomegranates,"  and  The 
Blot  on  the  'Scutcheon,"  and  lost  no  time  in  making  myself 
acquainted  with  everything  he  had  published  at  the  time, 
In  the  words  of  Keats, 

"Then  felt  I,  as  some  wratcher  of  the  skies, 
When  a  new  planet  swims  into  his  ken." 

Here  was  no  half-poet,  piping  melodious  repetitions  on 
his  limited  reed,  but  a  royal  harper,  striking  double-handed, 
the  fullest  chords  and  the  extremest  notes  of  the  scale  of 
human  passion.     His  very  faults  were  the  wilful  faults  of 
conscious  power ;  his  mannerism  was  no  subterfuge  to  con- 
ceal poverty  of  thought,  but  lay  in  the  texture  of  his  mind ; 
while  in  his  boldness,  his  blunt  Saxon  plainness,  and  hi? 
feculty  of  hitting  the  target  of  expression  full  in  the  white, 
by  a  single  arrowy  word,  I  looked  in  vain  through  the 
array  of  English  authors  since  the  Elizabethan  age  to  find 
his  equal.     Many  of  his  poems  reminded  me  of  the  Day 
and  Night  of  Michael  Angelo — figures  of  immortal  beauty 
struggling  into  shape  through  the  half-chiselled  marble,  yet 
grander  in  their  incompleteness  than  the  completed  works 
of  other  sculptors.     He  tries  the  sinews  of  language,  it  is 
true ;  he  writes,  occasionally,  for  the  evident  purpose  of 
exhibiting  his  verbal  gymnastics  ("  Old  Pictures  in  Flo- 
tence,"  for  instance),  but  he   will  stand  the  test  which 
proves  a  true  poet — he  is  best  when  simplest  in  hia  forms. 
It  is  a  curious  fact  that  while  the  first  volume  of  Alex- 


412  AT   HOME  AND  ABftOAD. 

ander  Smith  (a  man  not  to  be  named  on  the  same  day  with 
Browning),  was  greeted  with  a  sale  of  20,000  copies  the 
first  year,  the  first  American  edition  of  Browning's  Poems, 
m  two  volumes,  was  not  exhausted  until  seven  years  after 
lis  publication.  One  thousand  copies  in  seven  years.  The 
sale  of  the  EngUsh  edition,  in  the  same  time,  was  probably 
not  much  greater.  Of  Browning's  last  volume,  "  Men  and 
Women,"  nearly  three  thousand  copies,  I  believe,  have 
been  sold.  The  same  comparison  might  be  made  between 
the  experiences  of  Tupper  and  Tennyson  j  but  we  all  know 
whose  works  will  be  printed  and  read  in  the  year  1960, 
and  whose  won't. 

When  I  was  about  starting  for  Europe,  on  my  way  to 
the  East,  in  the  summer  of  1851,  a  mutual  friend  offered 
me  a  letter  to  Browning,  who  was,  then,  with  his  wife, 
temporarily  in  London.  (After  their  marriage,  which  took 
place  three  or  four  years  previous,  they  made  their  home 
in  Italy.)  Calling,  one  afternoon  in  September,  at  their 
residence  in  Devonshire  street,  I  was  fortunate  enough  to 
6nd  both  at  home,  though  on  the  very  eve  of  their  return 
to  Floience.  In  a  small  drawing-room  on  the  first  floor  I 
met  Browning,  who  received  me  with  great  cordiality.  In 
his  lively,  cheerful  manner,  quick  voice,  and  perfect  self- 
possession,  he  made  upon  me  the  impression  of  an  Ameri- 
can rather  than  an  Englishman.  He  was  then,  I  should 
judge,  about  thirty-seven  years  of  age,  but  his  dark  hair 
was  already  streaked  with  gray  about  the  temples.  Hia 
complexion  was  fair,  with  perliaps  the  faintest  olive  tinge, 
eyes  large,  clear,  and  gray,  nose  strong  and  well  cut,  moiith 
full  and  rather  bread,  and  chin  pointed,  though  not  pro 


PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  4l8 

tuineut.  His  forehead  broadened  rapidly  upwards  from 
the  outer  angle  of  the  eyes,  slightly  retreating.  The  strong 
individuality  which  marks  his  poetry  was  expressed,  noti 
only  in  his  face  and  head,  but  in  his  whole  demeanor.  Hfl 
was  about  the  medium  height,  strong  in  the  shoulders,  but 
lender  at  the  waist,  and  his  movements  expressed  a  com- 
oination  of  vigor  and  elasticity. 

In  the  room  sat  a  very  large  gentleman  of  between  fifl} 
and  sixty  years  of  age.  He  must  have  weighed  two  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds,  at  least ;  his  large,  rosy  face,  bald  head,  and 
rotund  body  would  have  suggested  a  prosperous  brewer, 
if  a  livelier  intelligence  had  not  twinkled  in  the  bright, 
genial  eyes.  This  unwieldy  exterior  covered  one  of  the 
warmest  and  most  generous  of  hearts,  and  that  heavy  right 
hand  had  written  one  of  the  finest  English  anacreontics. 
The  man  was  John  Kenyon,  who  giving  up  his  early  am- 
bition to  be  known  as  an  author,  devoted  his  life  to  making 
other  authors  happy.  Possessed  of  ample  means,  his  house 
near  London  was  opened  to  all  who  handled  pen,  brush,  or 
chisel,  and  the  noble  hospitality  which  he  gave  to  Art  was 
repaid  to  him  by  the  society  and  esteem  of  the  artists.  He 
was  a  relative  of  Mrs.  Browning,  and  at  his  death,  four 
years  ago,  bequeathed  to  her  a  legacy  of  £10,000. 

Mr.  Kenyon  had  called  to  say  good-by  to  his  friends, 
and  presently  took  his  leave.  "  There,"  said  Browning, 
when  the  door  had  closed  after  him,  "  there  goes  one  of 
the  most  splendid  men  living — a  man  so  noble  in  his 
friendships,  so  lavish  in  his  hospitality,  so  large-hearted 
and  benevolent,  that  he  deserves  to  be  known  all  over  the 
«rorld  as  'Kenyon  the  Magnificent!'"     His  eulogy  wae 


114  AT   UOMB  AND  AB£OAD. 

interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Mrs.  Browning,  whom  hfi 
ran  to  meet  with  a  boyish  liveliness.  She  was  slight  and 
fragile  in  appearance,  with  a  pale,  wasted  face,  shaded  by 
masses  of  soft  chestnut  curls  which  fell  on  her  cheeks,  and 
serious  eyes  of  bluish-gray.  Her  frame  seemed  to  be  alto- 
gether disproportionate  to  her  soul.  This,  at  least,  was 
the  first  impression:  her  personality,  frail  as  it  appeared, 
soon  exercised  its  power,  and  it  seemed  a  natural  thing 
that  she  should  have  written  the  "  Cry  of  the  Children  " 
or  the  "  Lady  Geraldine's  Courtship.''  I  also  understood 
how  these  two  poets,  so  different  both  intellectually  and 
physically,  should  have  found  their  complements  in  each 
other.  The  fortunate  balance  of  their  reciprocal  qualities 
makes  them  an  exception  to  the  rule  that  the  intermarriage 
of  authors  is  unadvisable,  and  they  appear  to  be — and  are 
— perfectly  happy  in  their  wedded  life. 

They  both  expressed  great  satisfaction  with  their  Ame- 
rican reputation,  adding  that  they  had  many  American 
acquaintances  in  Florence  and  Rome.  "  In  fact,"  said 
Browning,  "  I  verily  believe  that  if  we  were  to  make  out  a 
list  of  our  best  and  dearest  friends,  we  should  find  more  Ame- 
rican than  English  names."  Mrs.  Browning  was  anxious  to 
learn  something  with  regard  to  Art  in  this  country,  and  the 
patronage  extended  to  it ;  and,  in  the  course  of  the  con- 
versatijn,  freely  expressed  her  belief  that  a  Republican 
form  of  Government  is  unfavorable  to  the  development  of 
the  Fme  Arts.  To  this  opinion  I  dissented  as  moderately 
as  possible,  but  I  soon  had  a  powerful  ally  in  Browning, 
who  declared  that  no  artist  had  ever  before  been  honored 
with  a  more  splendid  commission  than  the  State  of  Vir 


PERSON  U.   SKETCHES^  416 

^ia  had  ^ven  to  Crawford.  A  general  historical  discus 
sion  ensued,  which  was  carried  on  for  some  time  with  the 
greatest  spirit,  the  two  poets  taking  directly  opposite 
vi3W8,  It  was  good-humoredly  closed  at  last,  and  I  though 
both  of  them  seemed  to  enjoy  it.  There  is  no  fear  that  two 
guch  fine  intellects  will  rust :  they  will  keep  each  other 
bright  through  the  delight  of  the  encounter. 

Their  child,  a  blue-eyed,  golden-haired  boy  of  two  years 
old,  was  brought  into  the  room.  He  stammered  Italian 
sentences  only:  he  knew  nothing,  as  yet,  of  his  native 
tongue.  He  has  since  exhibited  a  remarkable  genius  for 
music  and  drawing — a  fortunate  circumstance,  for  inherited 
genius  is  always  fresher  and  more  vigorous  when  it  seeks  a 
new  form  of  expression. 

I  feel  that  I  have  no  right  to  touch  further  the  person- 
ality of  these  poets.  The  public  always  demands  to  know, 
and  there  is  no  impropriety  in  its  knowing,  how  its  favorite 
author  looks  and  talks,  but,  while  he  lives,  it  has  no  right 
to  pry  into  the  sanctities  of  his  private  life.  Robert  and 
Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning,  however,  have  thousands  of 
unknown  friends  in  this  country  who  will  be  glad  to  know 
that  their  lives  are  fortunate — that  their  share  of  the  neces- 
gary  troubles  and  trials  is  not  more  than  the  average  lot  of 
man — or,  if  greater,  is  borne  with  a  cheerfulness  and 
courage  which  hide  it  from  other  eyes.  Owing  to  Mrs. 
Browning's  feeble  health,  they  have  made  Italy  their  per 
manent  home,  but  they  visit  England  from  time  to  time. 

I  met  them  again  in  London,  in  1856,  where  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  breakfasting  at  Barry  Cornwall's  in  company 
with   Browning.      He  was  very  gay  and  witty,  and   ai 


416  AT   HOMJ£   AND   ABBOAD. 

young  and  buoyant  in  appearance  as  when  I  first  saw  him. 
Mrs.  Browning  was  then  reading  the  proofe  of  "  Aurora 
Leigh,"  which  appeared  shortly  afterwards. 


3. — ^The  Wbitees  foe  "  Pilnch.'* 

Me.  Thackeeay,  whose  connection  with  The  JLondon 
Punch  dates  back  almost,  if  not  quite,  to  its  initial  num- 
ber, is  in  the  habit  of  giving  an  annual  dinner  to  the 
editors,  contributors,  and  publishers  of  that  periodical.  In 
July,  1857,  I  happened  to  be  in  London  when  the  dinner 
for  that  year  came  off,  and  was  one  of  four  Americans  who 
were  guests  on  that  occasion.  The  other  three  were  a 
noted  sculptor,  the  architect-in-chief  of  the  Central  Park, 
and  an  ex-editor  of  The  New  York  Times. 

In  summer,  the  usual  dinner-hour  in  London  is  seven, 
although,  even  then,  the  shuttei's  must  be  closed  to  make 
gas-light  effective.  Dinner,  as  is  well-known,  is  a  much 
graver  affair  in  England  than  elsewhere,  and  daylight  is 
destructive  to  its  success.  The  summer  twilight  of  the 
North,  however,  exacts  a  compromise,  which  I  found  very 
agreeable.  You  drive  to  your  destination  in  the  hazy 
orange  splendor  of  sunset,  and  are  then  ushered  into  th 
soft  lamp-light  which  streams  upon  the  hospitable  board 
The  transition  of  feeling  is  something  like  that  you  expe- 
rience on  entering  a  theatre.  The  threshold  of  the  build- 
ing is  the  dividing  line  between  two  worlds,  and  you  sur 
render  y  ourself  willingly  lo  the  illusions  before  you. 


P£BSONAL   SEJrrOU£8.  41? 

In  this  case  of  the  "  Punch  Dinner,'  however,  there 
were  no  special  illusions  to  be  accepted :  everything  wa/ 
simple,  unconventional,  and  genial.  The  guests  assemblec 
ill  Mr.  Thackeray's  drawing-room,  most  of  them  wearing 
fftsy  black  cravats  instead  of  the  stiff  white  "  chokers' 
which  English  society  requires,  and  marched  thence  to  the 
dining-room  without  any  particular  order  of  precedence 
Bradbury  and  Evans,  whose  names  are  as  well  known  ab 
those  of  the  authors,  who  have  grown  famous  behind 
their  imprint,  were  there :  Mark  Lemon,  the  patriarch  of 
"  Punch  /"  Horace  Mayhew,  "  the  Greatest  Plague  of 
Life ;"  Tom  Taylor,  and  Shirley  Brooks ;  and  two  or  three 
other  gentlemen  whose  names  are  not  mentioned  in  connec- 
tion with  their  contributions,  and  whom,  therefore,  I  shall 
not  individually  designate.  The  absence  of  Douglas  Jer- 
rold  was  lamented  by  all.  He  was  then,  I  think,  at  Bou- 
logne, for  his  health.  The  following  Jime,  on  the  very  day 
I  returned  to  London,  the  gay  company,  whose  acquaint- 
ance I  was  now  to  make,  attended  his  body  to  its  resting- 
place  in  Norwood  Cemetery. 

"  The  gay  company,"  I  have  said :  but  by  no  means  so 
uproariously  gay  as  the  reader  may  suppose.  An  author's 
books  rarely  reflect  his  external  life,  and  he  who  most 
provokes  your  mirth  by  his  writings  may  chance  to  have 
the  saddest  face  when  you  meet  him.  If  I  had  not 
known  this  fact  previously,  I  might  have  been  disappointed  : 
for  not  a  single  joke  did  I  hear  during  the  whole  blessed 
evening.  There  was  much  cheerful  chat,  and  some  amusing 
stories,  but  no  sparkle  of  wit,  no  flash  of  airy  banter  and 
repartee,  such  as  might  have  been  expected  in  the  atmo 


il8  AT  HOIIB  AND  ABROAD. 

sphere  of  the  Humorous  Olympus.  Tlie  Punch  wherewith 
we  were  regaled  was  not  that  swift,  warm,  inspiring  beve- 
rage of  the  Nodes  Amhrosianm — ^but  cool  claret  and 
borage — ^in  fact,  that  veritable  fragrant  cup,  without  a 
knowledge  of  which  (according  to  the  Hon.  Grantley 
Berkley),  no  man  can  justly  be  called  a  gentleman. 

Our  giant  host,  upon  whose  head  lie  the  snows  of  wis- 
dom, not  of  age,  illustrated  the  grandeur  of  cheerfulness, 
as  he  took  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  table.  The  eyes 
which  can  pierce  through  the  triple  mail  of  shams  and 
hypocrisies,  sheathed  their  trenchant  glances,  and  beamed 
only  a  cordial  hospitality.  At  the  other  end  of  the  table 
sat  Mark  Lemon,  his  very  opposite  in  appearance.  Mark 
is  evidently  a  Lemon  which  has  not  yet  been  subjected  to 
the  process  of  squeezing.  In  arithmetical  formula  his 
height  being  16,  his  diameter  would  be  9.  His  face  is 
broad,  mild,  and  massive,  but  receives  character  from  a 
heavy  moustache.  Li  a  crowd  I  should  have  taken  him 
for  a  prosperous  Dutch  banker.  He  was  formerly  a  pub- 
lican, but  not  a  sinner,  I  should  judge,  for  he  evidently 
enjoys  a  good  conscience,  as  well  as  good  health.  His 
manners  are  quiet  and  gentlemanly,  but  I  suspected  the 
presence  of  a  huge  cetaceous  mirthfulness  behind  this 
repose.     It  would  take  a  harpoon,  however,  to  draw  it  out. 

My  vis-d-vis  happened  to  be  Tom  Taylor,  who  was  de- 
cidedly the  liveliest  of  the  company.  Tom  is  a  man  of 
thirty-eight,  or  thereabouts,  rather  tali  than  sliort,  well- 
built,  with  a  strong,  squareish  face,  black  eyes,  hair,  and 
moustache,  and  a  gay,  cheerful,  wide-awake  air,  denoting  a 
happy  mixture  of  the  imaginative  and  the  practical  facul 


PERSONAL   SKirrCHES.  419 

ties.  He  was  al\\^ays  ready  to  join  in  tne  laugh,  and  to 
crown  it  by  provoking  another.  In  fact,  he  showed  so  little 
of  English  reserve,  so  much  of  unembarrassed  American 
bonhommie,  that  we  ought,  properly,  to  call  him,  "  Our 
Englisli  Cousin." 

Shiiley  Brooks,  who,  in  addition  to  his  contributions  to 
Pxmch^  is  the  author  of  "  Aspen  Court,"  a  successful  novel, 
and  "  The  Silver  Cord,"  (now  being  published  in  "  Once  a 
Week^'')  appears  to  be  a  year  or  two  younger  than  Tora 
Taylor — a  fair,  blond,  blue-eyed,  plump  Englishman,  with 
the  conventional  whiskers  and  smoothly-shaven  lips  and 
chin.  His  face  is  good-humor  itself  He  seems  to  have  no 
sharp  angles  in  his  nature — does  not  flash  or  dazzle — but 
beams  with  a  steady,  cheerful  light,  receiving  as  well  as 
giving  the  spirit  of  the  hour.  Upon  myself,  at  least,  he 
made  a  most  agreeable  impression. 

Horace  Mayhew,  on  the  other  hand,  is  tall,  dark,  and 
grave  in  manner,  with  aquiline  nose,  keen  eyes,  and  heavy 
moustache.  My  place  at  table  did  not  happen  to  be  near 
him,  and  he  said  nothing  during  the  dinner  to  draw  the 
attention  of  the  company  upon  him.  His  articles  upon 
"  London  Labor  and  the  London  Poor"  suggest  the  charac- 
ter of  his  personality  much  better  than  that  admirable 
domestic  satire,  "  The  Greatest  Plague  of  Life.''  He  was 
at  that  time,  I  understood,  a  regular  contributor  to  Punch. 

The  publishers,  Bradbury  &  Evans,  mnst  not  be  over- 
looked. Their  presence  at  the  dinner  was  an  evidence  that 
Campbell's  assertion  of  the  natural  enmity  between  pub- 
lishers and  authors,  was  founded  on  some  personal  spite 
rather  than  upon  actual  fact.    The  reciprocal  cordiality 


i20  AT  aoUB  AND  ABBOAO. 

which  was  manifested  between  them  and  the  other  gnesta, 
was  not  simulated.  They  were  really,  as  well  as  apparent- 
ly,  friends.  Quiet,  unobtrusive,  genial,  and  unmistakeably 
benevolent  in  character,  they  increased  the  harmony  of  the 
circle.  No  one  felt  the  presence  of  a  chilling  material  ele 
ment.  A  year  later,  I  learned  that  when  Douglas  Jerrold 
died,  he  was  £800  in  their  debt,  not  a  penny  of  which  they 
ever  claimed.  It  is  a  pity  that  the  honorable  treatment 
which  they  extend  to  authors  should  not  have  always  been 
returned  to  them. 

The  company,  as  I  have  already  said,  was  wholly  and 
heartily  cheerful,  but  could  scarcely  be  called  brilliant.  The 
best  things,  as  usual,  were  said  by  our  host.  One  occasion 
of  this  kind,  however,  is  by  no  means  a  specimen  of  all. 
Perhaps  the  barometer  was  falling;  perhaps  two  of  the 
guests  had  private  worries  of  some  sort ;  perhaps  no  pro- 
per conductor  was  present,  to  draw  the  electricity  from 
those  charged  clouds.  It  is  very  unfair  to  judge  any  man 
by  a  single  interview.  Therefore,  I  would  not  be  under- 
stood as  saying,  that  the  writers  for  Punch  are  not  witty 
in  society :  I  simply  describe  them  as  I  saw  them.  Words- 
worth, after  his  wife's  death,  sat  by  his  lonely  fireside,  ab- 
sorbed in  grief,  and  paid  no  attention  to  a  curious  visitor 
who  accosted  him.  The  latter  immediately  went  home  and 
spread  the  report  that  Wordsworth  was  losing  bis  mind, 
There  is  much  bright,  keen  humor  among  the  London  au- 
thors, but  I  have  no  doubt  the  New  York  Press  Club  can 
get  together  as  brilliant  a  party. 

Albert  Smith  should  have  been  present,  but  he  was  not 
able  to  attend.     His  wonderful  powers  as  an  improvisator* 


P£BSOKAL  SKBIOIiBS.  421 

were  so  highly  extolled,  that  I  regretted  having  lost  the 
opportunity  of  hearing  him.  I  afterwards  visited  his  A» 
cent  of  Mount  Blanc — a  combination  of  cheap  panorama 
and  diverting  narrative,  the  success  of  which  depended  so 
much  on  the  pecuhar  humor  of  the  man  himself,  that  he  can 
have  no  successor.  It  was  simply  a  collection  of  grotesque 
incidents  of  travel,  but  related  with  such  droll  imitations 
and  in  such  a  hearty,  off-hand,  comic  tone,  that  the  audience 
was  convulsed  with  laughter,  from  beginning  to  end.  The 
very  same  things,  m  the  mouth  of  another  man,  might  have 
failed  to  produce  any  effect.  The  mirthful  eyes,  broad  face, 
cheery  voice,  and  stout  figure  of  Albert  Smith,  were  indis- 
pensable parts  of  the  performance.  These  alone  enabled 
him  to  gain  a  fortune  of  £30,000  in  a  few  years.  And  the 
moral  I  would  deduce  therefrom  is  this :  Cheerfulness  is  a 
Power, 


4. — ^Lkigh  Hunt. 

I  HAD  but  one  interview  with  Leigh  Hunt,  yet  so  satis- 
factory was  that  interview,  in  its  exhibition  of  his  peculiar 
characteristics,  both  as  poet  and  man,  that  I  doubt  whether 
a  month's  acquaintance  would  have  done  more.  It  was  in 
June,  1857,  when  I  was  spending  a  fortnight  in  London, 
preparatory  to  my  summer  tour  in  Norway.  Mr.  Buchanan 
Read,  the  poet  and  artist,  and  Mr.  Moran  of  the  American 
Legation,  both  of  whom  were  friends  of  Mr.  Hunt,  kindly 
jivited  me,  with  his  permission,  to  spend  an  evening  witt 
him. 


422  AT  UOMK  AND  ABROAD. 

In  the  long  summer  twilight  we  drove  out  past  Ken 
mngtou  and  Brompton,  mile  after  mile,  through  the  endless 
London,  until  we  reached  the  quiet  shades  of  Hammersmith. 
Here  the  pulses  of  the  great  city  are  no  longer  felt :  lanes 
of  modest  cottages  and  gardens  branch  off  from  the  maiL 
shoroughfare,  and  one  can  live  in  as  complete  a  seclusion  as 
among  the  mountains  of  Cumberland.  In  one  of  those  neat, 
silent  lanes,  where  grass  and  paving-stones  seem  to  be  striv- 
ing alike  for  the  upper  hand,  we  found  the  poet's  residence 
— a  plain  two-story  brick  cottage,  of  the  humblest  size,  but 
as  trim  and  snug  in  its  outward  aspect  as  it  could  well  be. 

Hunt's  wife  had  been  dead  for  nearly  a  year,  and  he  was 
living  alone,  with  but  a  single  servant.  His  pension,  and 
the  moderate  income  which  he  received  from  his  books, 
were  sufficient  for  his  necessities,  and  he  was  at  last  enjoy- 
ing a  little  pecuniary  peace,  after  a  long  struggle  with  those 
material  difficulties  which  he,  least  of  all  poets,  was  fitted  tc 
encounter.  The  servant  ushered  us  through  a  diminutive 
hall,  into  a  little  library,  on  the  threshold  of  which  Mr.  Hunt 
met  us.  The  first  impression  which  I  received  from  his 
presence  was  that  of  his  thorough  gentleness  and  refine- 
ment. He  was  tall — nearly  six  feet — but  slender,  and  still 
I)erfectly  erect,  in  spite  of  his  seventy  years.  This  was  aU 
that  I  could  notice  in  the  twilight,  but  I  felt  the  cordial 
pressure  of  a  small,  warm,  delicate  hand,  as  he  welcomed 
me  with  a  manner  in  which  there  was  something  of  a  fine 
antique  courtesy. 

We  entered  the  little  room,  the  servant  lighted  the  lamp, 
and  we.  took  seats  at  the  four  sides  of  a  table  just  large 
enough  to  accommodate  us.    The  walls  were  covered  with 


PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  428 

Dooks  from  floor  to  ceiling:  a  single  window  opened  upon 
a  few  square  yards  of  garden,  and  there  was  just  suflicient 
room  for  tlie  servant  to  pass  around,  outside  of  us.  No 
thing  could  be  more  cozy  and  comfortable.  The  nar^o^^ 
quarters  disposed  each  one  of  us  to  genial,  social  converse; 
and  we  should  have  felt  much  less  at  home  in  the  large  aud 
ofty  hall  of  an  aristocratic  mansion.  It  was  a  partie  car 
r&,  such  as  would  have  rejoiced  the  heart  of  Barry  Corn- 
wall. 

While  our  host  was  filling  the  tea-cups,  I  studied  his  face 
in  the  lamp-light.  It  was  a  head  which  Vandyke  should 
have  painted — a  fine  oval,  with  a  low,  placid  brow,  kind, 
sweet,  serious  eyes  of  bluish-gray,  a  nose  rather  long,  but 
not  prominent,  full,  delicately-cut,  sensitive  mouth,  and  a 
chin  short  and  retreating,  but  dimpled  in  the  centre.  His 
hair,  abundant,  and  pure  silver  in  its  hue,  was  parted  La  the 
middle,  and  fell  in  long  wavos  to  his  shoulders.  He  was 
dressed  in  black,  with  a  collar  turned  down,  so  as  to  show 
more  of  the  throat  than  is  usual  in  Englishmen.  There 
was  something  saintly  in  the  mildness,  serenity,  and  perfect 
refinement  of  his  features,  but  they  wore  an  expression  of 
habitual  cheerfulness  and  happiness  which  we  rarely  find 
on  the  face  of  declared  saints.  His  voice  was  low  and 
clear,  with  an  exquisitely  distinct  articulation. 

Leigh  Hunt,  in  fact,  might  justly  be  called,  among  poets, 
the  Apostle  of  Cheerfulness.     No  author  ever  possessed 
sunnier  philosophy.     All  the  hardships  and  disappointment 
of  his  life  could  not  sour  or  embitter  him.     He  stuck  bravely 
to  the  theory  that  everything  was  good  and  beautiful — that 
there  was  no  inherent  evil  in  the  nature  of  Man,  and  nc 


424  AT     HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

reason  why  every  human  being  on  the  face  of  the  earth 
should  not  be  jolly.  Not  a  dark,  or  morbid,  or  complain- 
ing line  is  to  be  found  in  all  his  works.  His  poems  are  full 
of  breezes,  and  odors,  and  sunshine,  and  laughter.  His 
personality  conveyed  just  the  same  impression,  and  one  of 
his  first  remarks,  on  that  evening,  was  an  amusing  confirm- 
ation of  it.  "  I  have  recently  lost  most  of  my  teeth,"  said 
he ;  "  and  I  am  surprised  to  find  that  I  suffer  some  incon- 
venience from  it.  I  always  supposed  that  Nature  would 
compensate  us  for  every  loss  of  the  kind — either  that  the 
gums  would  harden  so  as  to  take  the  place  of  teeth,  or  that 
I  should  lose  all  desire  for  food  which  requires  mastication : 
but  it  does  not  seem  to  be  so.  I  am  a  little  disappointed, 
I  must  confess  ;  but  I  shall  try  the  experiment  a  while 
longer.** 

By  degrees,  he  fell  into  his  favorite  theme — ^that  of  the 
absolute  goodness  and  beauty  of  everything.  I  expressed 
a  different  opinion,  mainly  for  the  sake  of  hearing  how  he 
would  defend  himself.  He  skipped  over  contradictory 
facts  and  arguments,  however,  with  a  cheerful  agility  which 
showed  that  he  was  used  to  it.  "  Why,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  nobody  does  evil  for  the  love  of  it.  Evil  is  simply  a  bad 
habit,  a  diseased  condition  of  the  mind.  Even  the  man 
who  assaults  or  robs  you  tries  first  to  excite  your  anger 
against  him,  so  that  his  act  may  seem  to  himself  to  be  a 
etaliation,  rather  than  an  unprovoked  wrong.  If  men 
were  properly  educated,  they  would  all  be  good.  The  bad 
are  simply  to  be  pitied,  not  blamed,  because  their  lives  have 
been  distorted,  and  generally  by  no  fault  of  their  own.''  It 
was  pleasant  to  hear  such  kindly  sentiments  from  an  old 


PKKSONAL  SKETCHES.  425 

man  whose  life  had  not  been  very  fortunate,  except  in  its 
associations  ;  but  I  candidly  confessed  that  I  was  unable  to 
accept  quite  so  good-natured  a  philosophy. 

In  the  course  of  our  conversation,  some  remark  about 
birds  led  Hunt  to  take  down  a  volume  and  read  to  us  the 
Boug  of  a  nightingale,  as  put  into  words  by  some  Italian 
uthor.  He  read  it  in  a  silvery,  chirping  tone,  running 
over  the  trills  and  lingering  on  the  sustained  notes  in  a  way 
which  reproduced  all  of  the  nightingale's  song  except  its 
passion.  His  reading  of  poetry  was  likewise  fine,  but  cha- 
racteristic :  he  never  could  have  chanted  Milton  with  the 
grand  and  solemn  monotony  of  Tennyson's  voice. 

Hunt's  father  was  a  Philadelphian,  and  he  was  related  to 
Benjamin  West  by  the  mother's  side.  He  was  much  inte- 
rested in  learning  that  the  children  of  Americans,  though 
born  abroad,  are  still  American  citizens,  and  that,  there- 
fore, he  enjoyed  the  citizenship  of  both  hemispheres.  His 
first  volume  of  poems  ("  Foliage'')  was  reprinted  in  Phi- 
ladelphia in  1817;  He  spoke  with  great  satisfaction  of 
his  American  reputation,  his  previous  idea  of  the  "  shop- 
board"  having  perhaps  been  modified  by  the  offer  of  Tick- 
nor  &  Fields  to  pay  him  a  copyright  on  his  works. 

Dickens's  character  of  "  Harold  Skimpole,"  in  "  Bleak 
House,"  which,  by  the  novelist's  confession,  was  drawn 
from  Leigh  Hunt,  is  a  glaring  caiicaturc.  Placing,  himself, 
/ery  little  value  upon  money.  Hunt  could  not  recognize  its 
actual  value  in  the  eyes  of  others.  He  borrowed  as  freely 
as  he  would  have  given,  had  the  case  been  reversed,  and  he 
w&a  perhaps  as  careless  about  paying  as  he  would  have 
been  about  demanding  payment.      This,   of  course,  was  a 


426  AT   HOME  AND   ABBOAO. 

weakness  which  we  cannot  justify ;  but  neither  can  we  ju» 
tify  the  wanton  and  distorted  exhibition  of  it  by  a  brother 
author.  Hunt  was  also  called  selfish.  All  persons  of  ex- 
quisite and  delicate  taste  are  necessarily — perhaps  uncon- 
Bciously — selfish  in  certain  ways.  Hunt's  conduct,  however, 
during  his  imprisonment,  shows  that  he  knew  how  to  en 
dure  serious  loss  for  the  sake  of  a  principle,  and  that  the 
baser  forms  of  selfishness  had  no  place  in  his  nature.  Hia 
kindly  philosophy  was  sincere,  and,  whatever  faults  he  may 
have  had,  the  example  of  patience  and  cheerfulness  which 
he  gives  us  far  overbalances  them. 

The  world  is  full  of  weeping  and  wailing  authors,  and  we 
should  be  thankful  for  one  who  does  not  swell  the  utterance 
of  misery — who  conceals  his  tears,  and  shows  us  a  happy 
6ice  wherever  we  meet  him. 


6. — Hans  Chbistian  ANDKRsmr. 

Hans  Christian  Andersen  is  one  of  the  few  fortunate 
authors  whose  works  are  rac}'  with  the  peculiar  flavor  of 
their  native  soil,  yet  harmonize  with  the  natural  taste  of  all 
other  lands.  The  naive  simplicity  of  his  style,  the  richness 
and  quaintness  of  his  fancy,  and  a  minute  delicacy  of  touch 
m  his  descriptive  passages  which  reminds  one  of  the  pencil 
of  Teniers,  may  be  enjoyed  by  those  most  remote  from  the 
moors  of  Jutland  and  the  clift-boimd  Baltic  isles  whence  his 
themes  are  mostly  drawn — yet  doubly  enjoyed  by  the  few 
to  whom  the  originals  of  his  landscapes  are  familiar.    Den 


PSBSONAX   SKSTCHJBIS.  42? 

mark  is  rich  in  the  natural  elements  of  poetry.  Its  history 
18  a  wonderful  panorama  of  romance,  wherein  the  heroio 
Bgures  stand  out  sharp  and  splendid  against  a  background 
of  storm.  There  the  pagan  chant  of  the  sacred  forests  of 
Odin  mingles  with  the  masses  of  Christian  monks ;  the  rob- 
ber-knight of  the  mainland  meets  the  pirate  of  the  sea; 
barbaric  splendor  and  Titanic  wassail  alternate  with  a  life 
of  savage  endurance.  The  convulsions  of  the  Present  may 
create  soldiers,  priests,  statesmen  :  the  Past  is  the  mother 
of  poets. 

Denmark  is  not  renowned  for  its  scenery,  yet  its  land- 
scapes have  a  picturesque  homeliness — at  times  a  sublime 
monotony — which  have  more  power  to  attract  the  Muse 
than  the  grandest  natural  features.  And  here  let  me  remark 
that  scenery  does  not  create  poets,  either.  Where  is  the 
native  poet  of  the  Alps  ?  or  the  Pyrenees  ?  or  the  Bos- 
phorus  ?  or  of  Cashmere,  the  Caucasus,  and  the  Hhnalaya  ? 
The  Geniu-s  of  Song  does  not  alight  on  the  icy  peaks,  or 
drop  into  the  awful  gorges  of  mountain  chains.  He  hovers 
over  the  smoke  of  cities,  or  seeks  the  lowly  pastoral  vales, 
the  plains,  the  heathery  moorlands,  to  pick  out  his  chosen 
children.  This  is  no  accidental  result :  for  the  life  of  the 
mountaineer  transmits  to  his  children  the  quick  foot,  the 
strong  nerve,  the  keen  eye,  rather  than  the  brooding  and 
singing  brain.  The  ploughman's  son,  the  herd-boy  of  the 
meadows,  the  nursling  of  the  town,  inherit  no  such  overplus 
of  animal  culture :  the  struggling  intellect  and  vague  dreams 
of  the  father  or  mother  blossom  naturally,  in  them,  into  the 
vision  ami  the  faculty  <livine.  People  are  apt  to  exclaim 
(because  many  people  either  never  think,  or  think  in  the 


428  AT   HOME   AND    ABBOaD. 

shallowest  possible  way),  on  beholding  a  grand  moantaic 
landscape :  "  This  is  the  true  home  of  poets !"  The  remark 
simply  indicates  that  the  ideality  of  the  spectator  is  slightly 
excited.  The  reverse  is  true.  Even  Holland  has  produced 
more  poets  than  Switzerland. 

Denmark,  in  spite  of  its  northern  latitude,  seemed  to  me 
to  be  admirably  adapted  for  the  cradle  of  authors.  It  has 
many  "  waste  and  solitary  places,"  such  as  Shelley  loved ; 
melancholy  sweeps  of  sandy  "dunes,"  fretted  with  the 
embroidery  of  the  North  Sea's  waves,  and  rolling  moor- 
lands, purple  with  heather  or  golden  with  gorse  and  broom. 
The  highest  hill  in  Jutland  is  only  six  hundred  feet  above 
the  sea,  yet  there  are  lovely,  green,  winding  valleys, 
threaded  by  the  clearest  of  streams ;  woods  of  oak,  beech, 
birch,  and  fur  ;  quaint  villages  with  tiled  roofs,  and  Tartar 
church -spires,  and  stately  country  mansions,  with  the  trim 
gardens  and  formal  parks  of  the  past  century.  On  one  side 
deep  sea-bays  run  far  up  among  the  wooded  hills ;  on  the 
other  long  friths  penetrate  the  land,  and  bring  the  quaint 
coasting-craft  into  the  central  landscapes.  On  the  islands, 
high  cliffs  of  chalk,  tunnelled  and  caverned  by  the  waves, 
front  the  Baltic,  and  every  break  in  this  white  wall  showa  a 
valley  sloping  up  inland,  and  bright  with  the  greenest  pas- 
tures and  the  fairest  groves.  "  Ah,"  said  a  Dane  to  me, 
"  you  have  walked  under  the  palms  of  Egypt  and  the  banyao 
trees  of  India,  but  you  have  never  yet  seen  the  beech  woods 
of  Langeland !  Nothing  in  the  world  is  so  beautiful. 
There,  in  June,  you  may  lie  on  the  moss,  under  a  canopy 
of  transparent  emerald — no  leaves  are  so  green  as  beech. 
4eaves  in  June — and  see  the  blue  waters  of  our  Nortben 


PBBSONAL   SKBICUES.  420 

<Egean  shimmei-ing  below,  between  the  huge  boles,  white 
as  silver !     Then  you  would  understand  our  Danish  poets !" 

My  friend  was  right.  He  who  would  truly  enjoy  Oeh 
lenschlager  and  Heiberg  and  Baggesen  and  Andersen,  must 
know  Denmark.  The  latter,  especially,  although  he  has 
trarelled  much  and  has  occasionally  laid  the  scenes  of  his 
Btories  in  foreign  lands,  is  Danish,  not  only  in  the  character 
of  his  mind,  but  in  his  most  successful  subjects.  He 
was  born  on  the  island  of  Ftlnen,  in  1805,  and  until 
1833,  I  believe,  resided  either  there  or  in  Copenhagen, 
without  ever  having  trodden  the  mainland  of  Europe.  The 
son  of  a  poor  shoemaker,  a  shy  and  persecuted  factory-boy, 
a  supernumerary  on  the  stage,  a  charity  scholar,  he  has 
worked  his  way  steadily  upward,  through  that  tireless 
energy  which  is  nothing  less  than  a  concentrated  enthu- 
siasm, until  now  he  stands  acknowledged  as  the  first  of 
living  Danish  authors — in  fact,  without  a  rival  anywhere  it 
his  own  special  province  of  literature, 

I  cannot  remember  when  I  first  became  acquainted  with 
Andersen's  writings ;  but  I  think  it  was  duiing  my  first 
residence  in  Germany  in  1845.  Shortly  afterwards,  Mary 
Howitt's  translations  of  the  ^^  Improvisatore,"  "  O.  T.," 
and  other  works  appeared.  They  were  reprinted  in  this 
country,  and  became  immediately  popular.  His  "  Story  of 
My  Life"  was  published  in  Boston  in  1847.  It  is  a  charm- 
uig  autobiography,  a  little  petulant,  perhaps  a  little  too  fi-ea 
In  the  narration  of  his  private  hostilities,  but  as  frank  and 
picturesque  as  that  of  Benvenuto  Cellini.  I  am  rather  sur- 
prised  that  it  should  have  passed  out  of  print  so  soon, 
Like  Oehlenschlager  Andersen  wrote  raanv  of  his  books  in 


490  AT  HOME  AND   ABBOAD. 

Glerman  as  well  as  in  Danish,  but  his  "  Two  BaronesseB," 
which  he  wrote  in  English,  was  not  so  successful.  All  edu- 
cated Danes  speak  German,  and  the  affinity  between  the 
two  languages  renders  a  double  authorship  comparatively 
easy. 

An  intimate  fiiend  of  mine,  who  was  living  in  Copen- 
hagen, in  the  year  1852,  made  the  acquaintance  of  Ander- 
sen. One  day,  while  looking  over  the  poet's  library,  he 
found  a  copy  of  my  first  book  of  travel,  and  called  Ander- 
sen's attention  to  it.  The  latter  remarked  that  he  was 
Borry  the  author  should  have  died  before  he  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  writing  some  additional  volumes !  My  friend 
undeceived  him,  of  course,  and  the  result  was  a  cordial 
invitation,  on  his  part,  for  me  to  visit  him  at  Copenhagen. 
I  was  then  travelling  in  the  East,  and  received  his  message 
at  Constantinople.  It  was  then  in  my  plan  to  become 
acquainted  with  Northern  Europe,  but  many  seas  and  con- 
tinents still  lay  between  the  invitation  and  its  fulfilment. 

Time,  nor  space,  however,  can  cheat  a  man  out  of  that 
which  he  is  sure  he  shall  have.  Six  years  afterwards,  I 
came  down  from  the  Arctic  Thule  to  find  the  first  tokens 
of  spring  on  the  shores  of  Zeeland.  I  had  but  a  day  or  two 
to  spend  in  Copenhagen,  and  the  sights  of  that  capital — 
Thorwaldsen's  Museum,  the  Rosenberg  Palace,  and  the 
Collection  of  Northern  Antiquities — gave  me  enough  to 
do  ;  but  I  set  aside  a  portion  of  my  time  for  Hans  Christian 
Andersen.  He  was  then  living  in  his  comfortable  bachelor 
rooms,  not  far  from  the  Kongens  Nytorv,  where  I  was 
lodged.  On  sending  a  messenger  to  announce  my  readi« 
aees  to  make  his  acquaintance,  according  to  promise,  I 


PKKSONAL   SKETCHES.  481 

received  word  that  he  was  just  going  out  to  fulfil  an 
engagement  for  the  evening,  but  would  call  upon  me  the 
next  day. 

I  was  sitting  at  my  window,  the  following  afternoon, 
busily  engaged  in  sketching  the  Nytorv,  with  its  bronze 
Btatue  of  Christian  IV.  in  the  centre,  when  some  one 
knocked  at  the  door.  Without  waiting  for  a  summons 
the  door  opened,  and  a  tall,  awkward,  shambling  figure 
entered.  The  first  idea  which  occurred  to  me  was :  "  Here 
is  a  man  who  is  perfectly  at  home  whei'ever  he  goes." 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation  I  sprang  up,  quite  forgetting 
that  we  had  never  met  before,  and  cried  out,  "  Andersen ! 
how  are  you  ?"  as  to  an  old  friend.  He  greeted  me  with 
both  hands  outstretched:  "Ah,  here  you  are  at  last!" 
Then,  still  holding  my  hands,  he  said :  "  To  think  that  you 
might  have  passed  through  Copenhagen,  without  my  know- 
ing it !  How  I  should  have  been  vexed !"  Presently  we 
were  seated  face  to  face,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  knew  his 
fpatures  as  well  as  if  I  had  seen  them  for  years. 

He  is  nearly  six  feet  high,  but  very  loosely  put  together, 
large-jointed,  angular,  and  ungainly  in  his  movements. 
His  head  is  thrown  back  in  a  way  common  to  near-sighted 
persons,  and  he  also  has  the  peculiarity  of  partly  closing 
the  eyelids  when  looking  at  you.  His  features  are  as  ill- 
assorted  as  his  limbs :  the  eyes  are  gray  and  projecting ; 
the  nose  large  and  not  quite  straight,  the  mouth  broad, 
and  the  teeth  irregular.  His  forehead  is  high  and  narrow, 
out  well  developed  at  the  temples,  and  his  hair  thin  and 
sandy-gray.  Yet  the  plainness  of  his  face  is  attractive, 
through  its  air  of  frankness,  honesty,  and  kindness.     His 


432  AX  HOMB  AND  ABBOAD. 

manner  is  as  simple  and  natural  as  that  of  a  child.  He  has 
been  called  egotistical,  but  his  egotism  is  only  a  naive  and 
unthinking  sincerity.  He  has  that  winning  and  confiding 
way  which  not  only  encoui-ages,  but  almost  compels  con- 
fidence in  others.  Such  a  man  is  not  only  unembarrassed 
himself  but  his  presence  is  an  antidote  to  the  embai-rass- 
ment  of  others.  This  fact  accounts  for  his  personal  popu- 
larity  with  all  classes  of  men,  from  peasants  to  kings.  He 
is  a  Knight  of  Dannebrog,  with  the  honorary  titles  of  Pro- 
fessor and  Doctor,  yet  it  will  never  be  possible  to  call  him 
anything  else  than  Hans  Christian  Andersen. 


VIL 

The   Confessions   of  a   Medium. 

It  is  not  yet  a  year  since  I  ceased  to  act  as  a  Spiritual 
Medium.  (I  am  forced  to  make  use  of  this  title  as  the 
most  intelligible,  but  I  do  it  with  a  strong  mental  protest.) 
At  first,  I  desired  only  to  withdraw  myself  quietly  from  the 
peculiar  associations  into  which  I  had  been  thrown  by  the 
exercise  of  my  faculty,  and  be  content  with  the  simple 
fact  of  my  escape.  A  man  who  joins  the  Dashaways  does 
not  care  to  have  the  circumstance  announced  in  the  news- 
papers. "  So,  he  was  an  habitual  drunkard,"  the  public 
would  say.  I  was  overcome  by  a  similar  reluctance, — nay, 
I  might  honestly  call  it  shame, — since,  although  I  had  at 
intervals  officiated  as  a  Medium  for  a  period  of  seven  years, 
my  name  had  been  mentioned,  incidentally,  only  once  or 
twice  in  the  papers  devoted  especially  to  Spiritualism, 
had  no  such  reputation  as  that  of  Hume  or  Andrew  Jack 
son  Davis,  which  would  call  *br  a  public  statement  of  my 
recantation.  The  result  would  be,  therefore,  to  give  pro- 
minence to  a  weakness,  which,  however  manfully  Dvercome, 
might  be  remembered  to  my  future  prejudice 


434  AT  HOME   AND  ABBOAD. 

I  find,  however,  that  the  resolution  to  be  silent  leavei 
me  restless  and  unsatisfied.  And  in  reflecting  calmly — 
objectively,  for  the  first  time — upon  the  experience  of 
those  seven  years,  I  recognize  so  many  points  wherein  my 
case  is  undoubtedly  analogous  to  that  of  hundreds  of 
others  who  may  be  still  entangled  in  the  same  labyrinth 
whence  I  have  but  recently  escaped,  so  clear  a  solution  of 
much  that  is  enigmatical,  even  to  those  who  reject  Spirit- 
ualism, that  the  impulse  to  write  weighs  upon  me  with  the 
pressure  of  a  neglected  duty.  I  cannot  longer  be  silent, 
and,  in  the  conviction  that  the  truth  of  my  statement  will 
be  evident  enough  to  those  most  concerned  in  hearing  it, 
without  the  authority  of  any  name  (least  of  all,  of  one  so 
little  known  as  mine)  I  now  give  my  confession  to  the 
world.  The  names  of  the  individuals  whom  I  shall  have 
Dceasion  to  introduce  are,  of  course,  disguised ;  but,  with 
this  exception,  the  narrative  is  the  pldnest  possible  record 
of  my  own  experience.  Many  of  the  incidents  which  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  describe  are  known  only  to  the  actors 
therein,  who,  I  feel  assured,  will  never  foolishly  betray 
themselves.  I  have  therefore  no  fear  that  any  harm  can 
result  from  my  disclosures. 

In  order  to  make  my  views  intelligible  to  those  readers 
who  have  paid  no  attention  to  psychological  subjects,  1 
must  commence  a  little  in  advance  of  my  story.  My  ow  n 
'ndividual  nature  is  one  of  those  apparently  inconsistent 
oombinations  which  are  frequently  found  in  the  children 
of  parents  whose  temperaments  and  mental  personalities 
widely  dififer.  This  class  of  natures  is  much  larger  than 
n^ould  be  supposed.     Inheriting  opposite,  even  conflicting, 


THB  CONFESSIONS   OP  A   MEDIUM.  135 

traits  from  father  and  mother,  they  assume,  as  either  ele- 
ment predominates,  diverse  characters ;  and  that  which  is 
the  result  of  temperament  (in  fact,  congenital  inconsistency^ 
is  set  down  by  the  unthinking  world  as  moral  weakness  or 
duplicity.  Those  who  have  sufficient  skill  to  perceive  an 
reconcile — or,  at  least,  govern — the  opposing  elements  ar 
few,  indeed.  Had  the  power  come  to  me  sooner,  I  should 
have  been  spared  the  necessity  of  making  these  confessions. 

From  one  parent  I  inherited  an  extraordinarily  active 
and  sensitive  imagination, — from  the  other,  a  sturdy  prac- 
tical sense,  a  disposition  to  weigh  and  balance  with  calm 
&imes8  the  puzzling  questions  which  life  offers  to  every 
man.  These  conflicting  qualities — as  is  usual  in  all  similar 
natures — were  not  developed  in  equal  order  of  growth. 
The  former  governed  my  childhood,  my  youth,  and  enve- 
loped me  with  spells,  which  all  the  force  of  the  latter  and 
more  slowly  ripened  faculty  was  barely  sufficient  to  break. 
Luxuriant  weeds  and  brambles  covered  the  soil  which 
should  have  been  ploughed  and  made  to  produce  honesl 
grain.  Unfortunately,  I  had  no  teacher  who  was  comj)e- 
tent  to  miderstand  and  direct  me.  The  task  was  left  for 
myself,  and  I  can  only  wonder,  after  all  that  has  occurred, 
how  it  has  been  possible  for  me  to  succeed.  Certainly, 
this  success  has  not  been  due  to  any  vigorous  exercise  of 
virtue  on  my  part,  but  solely  to  the  existence  of  that  cool 
reflective  reason  which  Isijperdtie  beneath  all  the  eztrava 
gances  of  my  mind. 

I  possessed,  even  as  a  child,  an  unusual  share  of  what 
phrenologists  call  concentrativeness.  The  power  of  ab- 
lorption,  of  self-forgetfulness,  was  at  the  same  time  a  aoorof 


436  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

of  delight  and  a  torment.  Lost  in  some  wild  dream  oi 
absurd  childish  speculation,  my  insensibility  to  outward 
things  was  chastised  as  carelessness  or  a  hardened  indiflfer- 
ence  to  counsel.     With  a  memory  almost  marvellous  to 

etain  those  things  which  appealed  to  my  imagination, 
blundered  painfully  over  the  commonest  tasks.  While  1 
frequently  repeated  the  Sunday  hymn,  at  dinner,  I  was  too 
often  unable  to  give  the  least  report  of  the  sermon.  With- 
drawn into  my  corner  of  the  pew,  I  gave  myself  up,  after 
the  enunciation  of  the  text,  to  a  complete  abstraction, 
which  took  no  note  of  time  or  place.  Fixing  my  eyes 
upon  a  knot  in  one  of  the  panels  under  the  pulpit,  I  sat 
moveless  during  the  hour  and  a  half  which  our  worthy  old 
clergyman  required  for  the  expounding  of  the  seven  parts 
of  his  discourse.  They  could  never  accuse  me  of  sleep- 
ing, however ;  for  I  rarely  even  winked.  The  closing  hymn 
recalled  me  to  myself,  always  with  a  shock,  or  sense  of 
pain,  and  sometimes  even  with  a  temporary  nausea. 

This  habit  of  abstraction — properly  a  comiplete  passivitr/ 
of  the  mind — after  a  while  developed  another  habit,  in 
which  I  now  see  the  root  of  that  peculiar  condition  which 
made  me  a  Medium.  I  shall  therefore  endeavor  to  describe 
it.  I  was  sitting,  one  Sunday,  just  as  the  minister  was 
commencing  his  sermon,  with  my  eyes  carelessly  following 
the  fingers  of  my  right  hands,  as  I  drummed  them  slowly 

cross  my  knee.  Suddenly,  the  wonder  came  into  my 
mind, — How  is  it  my  fingers  move  ? — What  set  them 
going  ?  What  is  it  that  stops  them  ?  The  mystery  of  that 
communication  between  will  and  muscle,  which  no  physi 
ologist    has  ever  fathomed,  burst  upon  my  young  intel 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OF   A   MEDIUM.  43) 

lect.  I  had  been  conscious  of  no  intention  of  thus  drum 
ming  my  fingers;  they  were  in  motion  when  I  first  noticed 
them :  they  were  certainly  a  part  of  myself,  yet  they  acted 
without  my  knowledge  or  design!  My  left  hand  waa 
quiet ;  why  did  its  fingers  not  move  also  ?  Following  these 
reflections  came  a  dreadful  fear,  as  I  remembered  Jane, 
tlie  blacksmith's  daughter,  whose  elbows  and  shoulders 
sometimes  jerked  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  all  the  other 
scholars  laugh,  although  we  were  sorry  for  the  poor  girl, 
who  cried  bitterly  over  her  unfortunate,  ungovernable 
iiimbs.  I  was  comforted,  however,  on  finding  that  I  could 
control  the  motion  of  my  fingers  at  pleasure ;  but  my  ima- 
gination was  too  active  to  stop  there.  What  if  I  should 
forget  how  to  direct  my  hands?  What  if  they  should 
refuse  to  obey  me  ?  What  if  my  knees,  which  were  just 
as  still  as  the  hymn-books  in  the  rack  before  me,  should 
cease  to  bend,  and  I  should  sit  there  for  ever?  These  very 
questions  seemed  to  produce  a  temporary  paralysis  of  the 
will.  As  my  right  hand  lay  quietly  on  my  knee,  and  I 
asked  myself,  with  a  stupid  wonder,  "Now,  can  I  move 
it  ?"  it  lay  as  still  as  before.  I  had  only  questioned,  not 
willed.  "  No,  I  cannot  move  it,"  I  said,  in  real  doubt.  I 
was  conscious  of  a  blind  sense  of  exertion,  wherein  there 
was  yet  no  proper  exertion,  but  which  seemed  to  exhaust 
me.  Fascinated  by  this  new  mystery,  I  contemplated  my 
band  as  something  apart  from  myself, — something  subor- 
dinate to,  but  not  identical  with,  me.  The  rising  of  the 
■congregation  for  the  hymn  broke  the  spell,  like  the  snap- 
ping of  a  thread. 
The  reader  will  readily  understand  that  I  carried  tlies« 


438  AT   HOliB  AJSTD  ABBOAD. 

experiences  much  farther.  I  gradually  learned  to  suspend 
(perhaps  in  imagination  only,  but  therefore  none  the  lesi 
really)  the  action  of  my  will  upon  the  muscles  of  the  arma 
and  legs;  and  I  did  it  with  the  greater  impunity,  from 
knowing  that  the  stir  consequent  upon  the  conclusion  of 
the  services  would  bring  me  to  myself  In  proportion  aa 
the  will  became  passive,  the  activity  of  my  imagination  waa 
increased,  and  I  experienced  a  new  and  strange  delight  in 
watching  the  play  of  fantasies  which  appeared  to  come  and 
go  independently  of  myself.  There  was  still  a  dim  con- 
sciousness of  outward  things  mingled  with  my  condition ; 
I  was  not  beyond  the  recall  of  my  senses.  But  one  day,  I 
remember,  as  I  sat  motionless  as  a  statue,  having  ceased 
any  longer  to  attempt  to  control  my  dead  limbs,  more  than 
usually  passive,  a  white,  shining  mist  gradually  stole  around 
me  ;  my  eyes  finally  ceased  to  take  cognizance  of  objects ; 
a  low,  musical  humming  sounded  in  my  ears,  and  those 
creatures  of  the  imagination  which  had  hitherto  crossed  my 
brain  as  thoughts  now  spoke  to  me  as  audible  voices.  If 
there  is  any  happy  delirium  in  the  first  stages  of  intoxica- 
tion, (of  which,  thank  Heaven,  I  have  no  experience,)  it 
must  be  a  sensation  very  much  like  that  which  I  felt.  The 
death  of  external  and  the  birth  of  internal  consciousness 
overwhelmed  my  childish  soul  with  a  dumb,  ignorant  ecs- 
tasy, like  that  which  savages  feel  on  first  hearing  the 
magic  of  music. 

How  long  I  remained  thus  I  know  not.  I  was  aroused 
by  feeling  myself  violently  shaken.  "  John  ."  exclaimed 
my  mother,  wlio  had  grasped  my  arm  with  a  determined 
hand, — "  bless  the  boy  I   what  ails  him  ?     Why,  his  face  ia 


THE  CONFESSIONS   OP   A  MEDIUM.  439 

as  white  as  a  sheet !"  Slowly  I  recovered  my  conscious- 
ness, saw  the  church  and  the  departing  congregation,  and 
mechauicall/  followed  my  parents.  I  could  give  no  expla 
nation  of  what  had  happened,  except  to  say  that  I  had 
fallen  asleep.  As  I  ate  my  dinner  with  a  good  appetite, 
my  mother's  fears  were  quieted.  I  was  left  at  home  the 
following  Sunday,  and  afterwards  only  ventured  to  indulge 
sparingly  in  the  exercise  of  my  newly  discovered  faculty. 
My  moth(  r,  I  was  conscious,  took  more  note  of  my  pre- 
sence thai,  formerly,  and  I  feared  a  repetition  of  the  same 
catastropl.e.  As  I  grew  older  and  my  mind  became  inter- 
ested in  4  wider  range  of  themes,  I  finally  lost  the  habit, 
which  I  classed  among  the  many  follies  of  childhood. 

I  retamed,  nevertheless,  and  still  retain,  something  of 
that  subtile  instinct  which  mocks  and  yet  surpasses  reason. 
My  feelings  with  regard  to  the  persons  whom  I  met  were 
juite  independent  of  their  behavior  towards  me,  or  the 
estimation  in  which  they  were  held  by  the  world.  Things 
ivhich  puzzled  my  brain  in  waking  hours  were  made  clear 
to  me  in  sleep,  and  I  frequently  felt  myself  blindly  impelled 
to  do  or  to  avoid  doing  certain  things.  The  members  of 
jiy  family,  who  found  it  impossible  to  understand  my  mo- 
tives of  action, — ^because,  in  fact,  there  were  no  motives^ — 
complacently  solved  the  difficulty  by  calling  me  "  queer." 
I  presume  there  are  few  persons  who  are  not  occasionally 
visited  by  the  instinct,  or  impulse,  or  faculty,  or  whatever 
it  may  be  called,  to  which  I  refer.  I  possessed  it  in  a  more 
than  ordinary  degree,  and  was  generally  able  to  distinguish 
between  its  suggestions  and  the  mere  humors  of  my  imagi- 
oation.    It  is  scarcely  necessarv  to  say  that  I  assume  th« 


440  XT  HOMB  Ain>  ABBOAD. 

existence  of  such  a  power,  at  the  outset.    I  recoguize  it  a« 
a  normal  faculty  of  the  human  mind, — not  therefore  uni- 
versal, any  more  than  the  genius  which  makes  a  poet, 
painter,  or  a  composer. 

My  education  was  neither  general  nor  thorough ;  hence 
1  groped  darkly  with  the  psychological  questions  which 
were  presented  to  me.  Tormented  by  those  doubts  which 
at  some  period  of  life  assail  the  soul  of  every  thinking  man, 
I  was  ready  to  grasp  at  any  solution  which  offered,  without 
very  carefully  testing  its  character.  I  eagerly  accepted  the 
theory  of  Animal  Magnetism,  which,  so  far  as  it  went,  was 
satisfactory ;  but  it  only  illustrated  the  powers  and  relations 
of  the  soul  in  its  present  state  of  existence ;  it  threw  no 
light  upon  that  future  whi<;h  I  was  not  willing  to  take  upon 
faith  alone.  Though  sensible  to  mesmeric  influences,  I  was 
not  willing  that  my  spiritual  nature  should  be  the  instru- 
ment of  another's  will,  — that  a  human  being,  like  myself, 
should  become  possessed  of  all  my  secrets  and  sanctities, 
touching  the  keys  of  every  passion  with  his  unhallowed 
fingers.  In  the  phenomena  of  clairvoyance  I  saw  only 
other  and  more  subtile  manifestations  of  the  power  which 
I  knew  to  exist  in  my  own  mind.  Hence,  I  soon  grew 
weary  of  prosecuting  inquiries  which,  at  best,  would  fall 
short  of  solving  my  own  great  and  painful  doubt, — Does 
the  human  soul  continue  to  exist  after  death  ?  That  it 
could  take  cognizance  of  things  beyond  the  reach  of  the  five 
senses,  I  was  already  assured.  This,  however,  might  be  a 
sixth  sense,  no  less  material  and  perishable  in  its  character 
than  the  others.  My  brain,  as  yet,  was  too  young  and  im- 
mature to  follow  the  thread  o^  that  lofty  spiritual  logic  ic 


THB   CONFESSIONS    OF   A   MEDIUM,  441 

the  Ugbt  of  which  such  doubts  melt  away  like  mists  of  the 
night.  Thus,  uneasy  because  undeveloped,  erring  because 
T  had  never  known  the  necessary  guidance,  seeking,  but 
Almost  despairing  of  enlightenment,  I  was  a  fit  subject  foi 
iDy  spiritual  epidemic  which  seemed  to  offer  me  a  cure  for 
worse  maladies. 

At  this  juncture  occuned  the  phenomena  known  as  the 
*  Rochester  Knockings."  (My  home,  let  me  say,  is  in  a 
small  town  not  far  from  New  York.)  I  shared  in  the  gene- 
ral interest  aroused  by  the  marvellous  stories,  which,  being 
followed  by  the  no  less  extiaordinary  display  of  some  un- 
known agency  at  Norwalk,  Connecticut,  excited  rae  to  such 
a  degree  that  I  was  half-converted  to  the  new  faith  before  I 
had  ^vitnessed  any  spiritual  manifestation.  Soon  after  the 
arrival  of  the  Misses  Fox  in  New  York  I  visited  them  in 
their  rooms  at  the  Howard  House.  Impressed  by  their 
quiet,  natural  demeanor,  the  absence  of  anything  savoring 
of  jugglery,  and  the  peculiar  character  of  the  raps  and 
movements  of  the  table,  I  asked  my  questions  and  applied 
my  tests,  in  a  passive,  if  not  a  believing  frame  of  mind.  In 
fact,  I  had  not  long  been  seated,  before  the  noises  became 
loud  and  frequent. 

"  The  spirits  like  to  communicate  with  you,'*  said  Mrs. 
Fish  :  "  you  seem  to  be  nearer  to  them  than  most  people.'' 

I  summoned,  in  succession,  the  spirits  of  my  mother,  a 
younger  brother,  and  a  cousin  to  whom  I  had  been  mnch 
attached  in  boyhood,  and  obtained  correct  answers  to  all 
ray  questions.  I  did  not  then  remark,  what  has  since  oc- 
curred to  me,  that  these  questions  conceraed  things  whict 
[  knew,  and  that  the  answers  to  them  were  distinctly  iu 


442  AT  HOMB   AND    ABROAD. 

pressed  on  my  mind  at  the  time.  The  result  of  one  of  my 
tests  made  a  very  deep  impression  upon  me.  Having  men 
tally  selected  a  friend  whom  I  had  met  in  the  train  that 
morning,  I  asked, — "  Will  the  spirit  whose  name  is  now  in 
my  mind  communicate  with  me  ?"  To  this  came  the  an- 
swer, slowly  rapped  out,  on  calling  over  the  alphabet,— 
"-Sis  is  living!^'' 

I  returned  home,  very  much  puzzled.  Precisely  those 
features  of  the  exhibition  (let  me  call  it  such)  which  repulse 
others  attracted  me.  The  searching  day-light,  the  plain, 
matter-of-fact  character  of  the  manifestations,  the  absence 
of  all  solemnity  and  mystery,  impressed  me  favorably  to- 
wards tlie  spiritual  theory.  If  disembodied  souls,  I  said, 
really  exist  and  can  communicate  with  those  in  the  flesh, 
why  should  they  choose  moonlight  or  darkness,  graveyards 
or  lonely  bed-chambers,  for  their  visitations  ?  What  is  to 
hinder  them  from  speaking  at  times  and  in  places  where 
the  senses  of  men  are  fully  awake  and  alert,  rather  than 
when  they  are  liable  to  be  the  dupes  of  the  imagination  ? 
In  such  reflections  as  these  I  was  the  unconscious  dupe  of 
my  own  imagination,  while  supposing  myself  thoroughly 
impartial  and  critical. 

Soon  after  this,  circles  began  to  be  formed  in  my  native 
town,  for  the  purpose  of  table-moving.  A  number  of  per- 
sons met.  secretly  at  first, — for  as  yet  there  were  no  avowed 
converts, — and  quite  as  much  for  sport  as  for  serious  inves* 
ligation.  The  first  evening  there  was  no  satisfactory  mani- 
festation. The  table  moved  a  little,  it  is  true,  but  each  one 
laughingly  accused  his  neighbors  of  employing  some  mus- 
unlar  force :  all  isolated  attempts  were  vain.    I  was  con- 


THE  CONCESSIONS   OF   A    ICEDIUM.  449 

icious,  nevertheless,  of  a  curious  sensation  of  numbness  uj  the 
arms,  which  recalled  to  mind  my  forgotten  experiments  id 
church.  No  rappings  were  heard,  and  some  of  the  partid- 
pants  did  not  scruple  to  pronounce  the  whole  thing  a  delusion. 
A  few  evenings  after  this  we  met  again.  Those  who 
were  most  incredulous  happened  to  be  absent,  while,  acci- 
dentally, their  places  were  filled  by  persons  whose  tempera- 
ments disposed  them  to  a  passive  seriousness.  Among 
these  was  a  girl  of  sixteen.  Miss  Abby  Fetters,  a  pale,  deli- 
cate creature,  with  blond  hair  and  light-blue  eyes.  Chance 
placed  her  next  to  me,  in  forming  the  ring,  and  her  right 
hand  lay  lightly  upon  my  left.  We  stood  around  a  heavy 
circular  dining-table.  A  complete  silence  was  preserved, 
and  all  minds  gradually  sank  into  a  quiet,  passive  expect- 
ancy. In  about  ten  minutes  I  began  to  feel,  or  to  ima^ne 
that  I  felt,  a  stream  of  light — if  light  were  a  palpable  sub- 
stance— a  something  fer  finer  and  more  subtile  than  an 
electric  current,  passing  from  the  hand  of  Miss  Fetters 
through  my  own  into  the  table.  Presently  the  great 
wooden  mass  began  to  move — stopped — amoved  again — 
turned  in  a  circle,  we  following,  without  changing  the  posi- 
tion of  our  hands — and  finally  began  to  rock  from  side  to 
fflde,  with  increasing  violence.  Some  of  the  circle  were 
thrown  oflT  by  the  movements  ;  others  withdrew  their 
hands  in  affright ;  and  but  four,  among  whom  were  Msa 
Fetters  and  myself,  retained  their  hold.  My  outward 
consciousness  appeared  to  be  somewhat  benumbed,  as  if 
by  some  present  fascination  or  approaching  trance,  but  1 
'etained  curiosity  enough  to  look  at  my  companion.  Hei 
eyes,  sparkling  with  a  strange,  steady  light,  were  fixed  upou 


444  AT   dOMB  AKD  ABBOAB. 

the  table;  her  breath  came  quick  and  short,  and  her  eheoli 
had  lost  every  trace  of  color.  Suddenly,  as  if  by  a  spas 
inodic  effort,  she  removed  her  hands ;  I  did  the  same,  and 
the  table  stopped.  She  threw  herself  into  a  seat,  as  ii 
exhausted,  yet,  during  the  whole  time,  not  a  muscle  of  the 
hand  which  lay  upon  mine  had  stirred.  I  solemnly  declare 
that  my  own  hands  had  been  equally  passive,  yet  I  expe- 
rienced the  same  feeling  of  fatigue — not  muscular  fatigue, 
but  a  sense  of  deadness,  as  if  every  drop  of  nervous  energy 
had  been  suddenly  taken  from  me. 

Further  experiments,  the  same  evening,  showed  that  we 
two,  either  together  or  alone,  were  able  to  produce  the 
same  phenomena  without  the  assistance  of  the  othere  pre- 
sent. We  did  not  succeed,  however,  in  obtaining  any 
answers  to  our  questions,  nor  were  any  of  us  impressed  by 
the  idea  that  the  spirits  of  the  dead  were  among  us.  In 
fact,  these  table-movings  would  not,  of  themselves,  sug- 
gest the  idea  of  a  spiritual  manifestation.  "  The  table  is 
bewitched,"  said  Thompson,  a  hard-headed  young  fellow, 
without  a  particle  of  imagination  ;  and  this  was  really  the 
first  impression  of  all :  some  unknown  force,  latent  in  the 
dead  matter,  had  been  called  into  action.  StUl,  this  con 
elusion  was  so  strange,  so  incredible,  that  the  agency  ol 
supernatural  intelligences  finally  presented  itself  to  my 
mind  as  the  readiest  solution. 

It  was  not  long  before  we  obtained  rappings,  and  were 
enabled  to  repeat  all  the  experiments  which  I  had  tried 
during  my  visit  to  the  Fox  family.  The  spirits  of  our  de- 
ceased relatives  and  friends  announced  themselves,  and 
generally  gave  a  correct  account  of  their  earthly  lives     1 


THE  CONI-ESSIONS   OF   A   MEDIUM.  44fi 

must  confess,  liowever,  that,  whenever  we  attempted  tc 
pry  into  the  future,  we  usually  received  answers  as  ambt 
guous  as  those  of  the  Grecian  oracles,  or  predictions  which 
failed  to  be  realized.  Violent  knocks  or  other  unruly 
iemonstrations  would  sometimes  interrupt  an  intelligent 
•ommunication  which  promised  us  some  light  on  the  other 
life :  these,  we  were  told,  were  occasioned  by  evil  or  mis- 
chievous spirits,  whose  delight  it  was  to  create  disturb- 
ances. They  never  occurred,  I  now  remember,  except  when 
Miss  Fetters  was  present.  At  the  time,  we  were  too  much 
absorbed  in  our  researches  to  notice  the  fact. 

The  reader  will  perceive,  from  what  he  knows  of  my  pre- 
vious mental  state,  that  it  was  not  difficult  for  me  to  accept 
the  theories  of  the  Spiritualists.  Here  was  an  evidence  of 
the  immortality  of  the  soul — nay,  more,  of  its  continued 
individuality  through  endless  future  existences.  The  idea 
of  my  individuality  being  lost  had  been  to  me  the  same 
thing  as  complete  annihilation.  The  spirits  themselves 
informed  us  that  they  had  come  to  teach  these  truths.  The 
simple,  ignorant  faith  of  the  Past,  they  said,  was  worn  out ; 
with  the  development  of  science,  the  mind  of  man  had 
become  skeptical ;  the  ancient  fountains  no  long'er  sufficed 
for  his  thirst ;  each  new  era  required  a  new  revelation ;  in  all 
former  ages  there  had  been  single  minds  pure  enough  and 
Advanced  enough  to  communicate  with  the  dead  and  be  the 
mediums  of  their  messages  to  men,  but  now  the  time  had 
come  when  the  knowledge  of  this  intercourse  must  be 
declared  unto  all ;  in  its  light  the  mysteries  of  the  Past 
became  clear ;  in  the  wisdom  thus  imparted,  that  happy 
Futuj'e  which  seems  possible  to  every  ardent  and  generoue 


446  AT  HOME  AND  ABBOAD. 

heart  would  be  secured.  I  waa  not  troubled  by  the  fact 
that  the  messages  which  proclaimed  these  things  were  often 
incorrectly  spelt,  that  the  grammar  was  bad  and  the  lav 
guage  far  from  elegant.  I  did  not  reflect  that  these  new 
nd  sublime  truths  had  formerly  passed  through  my  own 
brain  as  the  dreams  of  a  wandering  imagination.  Like  that 
American  philosopher  who  looks  upon  one  of  his  own  neo- 
phytes as  a  man  of  great  and  profound  mind  because  the 
latter  carefully  remembers  and  repeats  to  him  his  own  care- 
lessly uttered  wisdom,  I  saw  in  these  misty  and  disjointed 
reflections  of  my  own  thoughts  the  precious  revelation  of 
departed  and  purified  spirits. 

How  a  passion  for  the  unknown  and  unattainable  takes 
hold  of  men  is  illustrated  by  the  search  for  the  universal 
solvent,  by  the  mysteries  of  the  Rosicrucians,  by  the  patron- 
age of  fortune-tellers,  even.  Wholly  absorbed  in  spiritual 
researches — ^having,  in  fact,  no  vital  interest  in  anything 
else — ^I  soon  developed  into  what  is  called  a  Medium.  I 
discovered,  at  the  outset,  that  the  peculiar  condition  to  be 
attained  before  the  tables  would  begin  to  move  could  be 
produced  at  will.*    I  also  found  that  the  passive  state  into 

*  In  attempting  to  describe  my  own  sensations,  I  labor  under  the  dis- 
advantage of  speaking  mostly  to  those  who  have  never  experienced  any- 
thing of  the  kind.  Hence,  what  would  be  perfectly  clear  to  myself  and 
to  those  who  have  passed  through  a  similar  experience,  may  be  unintelli- 
gible to  the  fwmer  class.  The  Spiritualists  excuse  the  crudities  which 
their  Plato,  St.  Paul,  and  Shakspeare  utter,  by  ascribing  them  to  the  im- 
perfection of  human  language ;  and  I  may  claim  the  same  allowance  in 
Betting  forth  men  tal  conditions  of  which  the  mind  itself  can  grasp  no  com- 
Dlete  idea,  seeing  that  its  most  importaat&culties  are  paralysed  during  the 
exiatenoe  of  those  conditious.' 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OP   A   lOCDIUM.  ^*J 

nrhich  I  naturally  fell  had  a  tendency  to  produce  that  trance 
or  suspension  of  the  will  which  I  had  discovered  when  a 
boy.  External  consciousness,  however,  did  not  wholly 
depart.  I  saw  the  circle  of  inquirers  around  me,  but  dimly, 
and  as  phantoms — while  the  impressions  which  passed  i>ver 
my  brain  seemed  to  wear  visible  forms  and  to  speak  with 
audible  voices. 

I  did  not  doubt,  at  the  time,  that  spirits  visited  me,  and 
that  they  made  use  of  my  body  to  communicate  with  those 
who  could  hear  them  in  no  other  way.  Beside  the  plea- 
sant intoxication  of  the  semi-trance,  I  felt  a  rare  joy  in 
the  knowledge  that  I  was  elected  above  other  men  to  be 
their  interpreter.  Let  me  endeavor  to  describe  the  nature 
of  this  possession.  Sometimes,  even  before  a  spirit  would 
be  called  for,  the  figure  of  the  person,  as  it  existed  in  the 
mind  of  the  inquirer,  would  suddenly  present  itself  to  me 
— not  to  my  outward  senses,  but  to  my  interior,  instinctive 
knowledge.  If  the  recollection  of  the  other  embraced  also 
the  voice,  I  heard  the  voice  in  the  same  manner,  and 
unconsciously  imitated  it.  The  answers  to  the  questions  I 
knew  by  the  same  instinct,  as  soon  as  the  questions  were 
spoken.  If  the  question  was  vague,  asked  for  information 
rather  than  confirmation,  either  no  answer  came,  or  there 
was  an  impression  of  a  wish  of  what  the  answer  might  be, 
or,  at  times,  some  strange  involuntary  sentence  sprang 
to  my  lips.  When  I  wrote,  my  hand  appeared  to  move  of 
itself;  yet  the  words  it  wrote  invariably  passed  through 
my  mind.  Even  when  blindfolded,  there  was  no  difference 
in  its  performance.  The  same  powers  developed  themselves 
b  a  still  greater  degree  in  Miss  Fetters.     The  ^irits  which 


448  AT   HOMB   AND   ABROAD. 

spoke  most  readily  through  her  were  those  of  men,  e^ei 
coarse  and  rude  characters,  which  came  unsuramoned.  Two 
or  three  of  the  other  members  of  our  circle  were  able  to 
produce  motions  in  the  table  ;  they  could  even  feel,  as  they 
asserted,  the  touch  of  spiritual  hands ;  but,  however  muol 
they  desired  it,  they  were  never  personally  possessed  as  we 
and  therefore  could  not  properly  be  called  Mediums. 

These  investigations  were  not  regularly  carried  on. 
Occasionally  the  interest  of  the  circle  flagged,  until  it  was 
renewed  by  the  visit  of  some  apostle  of  the  new  faith, 
usually  accompanied  by  a  "  Preaching  Medium.'*  Among 
those  whose  presence  especially  conduced  to  keep  alive  the 
flame  of  spiritual  inquiry  was  a  gentleman  named  Stilton, 
the  editor  of  a  small  monthly  periodical  entitled  "  Revela- 
tions from  the  Interior."  Without  being  himself  a  Medium, 
he  was  nevertheless  thoroughly  conversant  with  the  various 
phenomena  of  Spiritualism,  and  both  spoke  and  wrote  in 
the  dialect  which  its  followers  adopted.  He  was  a  man  of 
varied,  but  not  profound  learning,  an  active  intellect, 
giving  and  receiving  impressions  with  equal  facility,  and 
with  an  unusual  combination  of  concentrativeness  and 
versatility  in  his  nature.  A  certain  inspiration  was  con- 
nected with  his  presence.  His  personality  overflowed  upon 
and  influenced  others.  "  My  mind  is  not  sufficiently  sub- 
missive," he  would  say,  "  to  receive  impressions  from  th 
pirits,  but  my  atmosphere  attracts  them,  and  encourage 
hem  to  speak.''  He  was  a  stout,  strongly  built  man,  witli 
coarse  black  hair,  gray  eyes,  large  animal  mouth,  square 
jaws,  and  short,  thick  neck.  Had  his  hair  been  cropped 
olose,  he  would  have  looked  very  much  like  a  prize-fighter ; 


THJS   CONFESSIONS    OF   A   MEDIUM.  44S 

but  be  wore  it  long,  parted  in  the  middle,  and  as  meek  iu 
expression  as  its  stiff  waves  would  allow. 

Stilton  soon  became  the  controlling  spirit  of  our  circle. 
lis  presence  really  seemed,  as  he  said,  to  encourage  th<» 
pirits.  Never  before  had  the  manifestations  been  so  abun 
lant  or  so  surprising.  Miss  Fetters,  especially,  astonished 
as  by  the  vigor  of  her  possessions.  Not  only  Samson  and 
Peter  the  Great,  but  Gibbs  the  Pirate,  Black  Hawk,  and 
Joe  Manton,  who  had  died  the  previous  year  in  a  fit  of 
delirium-tremens,  prophesied,  strode,  swore,  and  smashed 
things  m  turn,  by  means  of  her  frail  little  body.  As  Cribb, 
a  noted  pugilist  of  the  last  century,  she  floored  an  incau- 
tious spectator,  giving  him  a  black  eye  which  he  wore  for 
a  fortnight  afterwards.  Singularly  enough,  my  visitors 
were  of  the  opposite  cast.  Hypatia,  Petrarch,  Mary  Mag- 
dalen, Abelard,  and,  oftenest  of  all,  Shelley,  proclaimed 
mystic  truths  from  my  lips.  They  usually  spoke  in  inspired 
monologues,  without  announcing  themselves  beforehand, 
and  often  without  giving  any  clue  to  their  personality.  A 
practised  stenographer,  engaged  by  Mr.  Stilton,  took  down 
many  of  these  communications  as  they  were  spoken,  and 
they  were  afterwards  published  in  the  "  Revelations."  It 
was  also  remarked,  that,  while  Miss  Fetters  employed  vio- 
lent gestures,  and  seemed  to  possess  a  superhuman  strength, 
I,  on  the  contrary,  sat  motionless,  pale,  and  with  little  sign 
•f  life  except  in  my  voice,  which,  though  low,  was  clear 
»nd  dramatic  in  its  modulations.  Stilton  explained  this 
difference  without  hesitation.  "  Miss  Abby,"  he  said, 
"  possesses  soul-matter  of  a  texture  to  which  the  souls  of 
these  strong  men  naturally  adhere.     In  the  spirit-land  tbf 


450  AT  HOMB  AKD  ABBOAD. 

superfluities  repel  each  other  ;  the  individual  souls  seek  to 
remedy  their  imperfections :  in  the  union  of  opposites  only 
is  to  be  found  the  great  harmonia  of  life.  You,  John, 
move  upon  another  plane ;  through  what  in  you  is  unde- 
veloped, these  developed  spirits  are  attracted." 

For  two  or  three  years,  I  must  admit,  my  life  was  a  verj 
happy  one.  Not  only  were  those  occasional  trances  an 
intoxication,  nay,  a  coveted  indulgence,  but  they  cast  a 
consecration  over  my  life.  My  restored  faith  rested  on  the 
sure  evidence  of  my  own  experience ;  my  new  creed  con- 
tained no  harsh  or  repulsive  feature ;  I  heard  the  same 
noble  sentiments  which  I  uttered  in  such  moments  repeated 
by  my  associates  in  the  faith,  and  I  devoutly  believed  that 
a  complete  regeneration  of  the  human  race  was  at  hand. 
Nevertheless,  it  struck  me  sometimes  as  singular  that  many 
of  the  Mediums  whom  I  met — men  and  women  chosen  by 
spiritual  hands  to  the  same  high  office — excited  in  my  mind 
that  instinct  of  repulsion  on  which  I  had  learned  to  rely  as 
a  sufficient  reason  for  avoiding  certain  persons.  Far  as  it 
would  have  been  from  my  mind,  at  that  time,  to  question 
the  manifestations  which  accompanied  them,  I  could  not 
smother  my  mistrust  of  their  characters.  Miss  Fetters, 
whom  I  so  frequently  met,  was  one  of  the  most  disagree- 
able. Her  cold,  thin  lips,  pale  eyes,  and  lean  figure  gave 
me  a  singular  impression  of  voracious  hunger.  Her  pre- 
sence was  often  announced  to  me  by  a  chill  shudder,  before 
I  saw  her.  Centuries  ago  one  of  her  ancestors  must  have 
been  a  ghoul  or  vampire.  The  trance  of  possession  seemed, 
with  her,  to  be  a  form  of  dissipation,  in  which  she  indulged 
as  she  might  have  catered  for  a  baser  appetite.    The  ne\i 


THE  coxpessio:n"s  op  a  medium.  461 

religion  was  nothing  to  her ;  I  believe  she  valued  it  only  or 
account  of  the  importance  she  obtained  among  its  follow- 
ers. Her  father,  a  vain,  weak-minded  man,  who  kept  • 
grocery  in  the  town,  was  himself  a  convert. 

Stilton  had  an  answer  for  every  doubt.  No  matter  how 
tangled  a  labyrinth  might  be  exhibited  to  him,  he  walked 
straight  through  it. 

"  How  is  it,"  I  asked  him,  "  that  so  many  of  my  fellow- 
.nediuras  inspire  me  with  an  instinctive  dislike  and  mis- 
trust ?  " 

"  By  mistrust  you  mean  dislike,"  he  answered  ;  "  since 
you  know  of  no  reason  to  doubt  their  characters.  The 
elements  of  soul-matter  are  differently  combined  in  different 
individuals,  and  there  are  affinities  and  repulsions,  just  as 
there  are  in  the  chemical  elements.  Your  feeling  is  che- 
mical, not  moral.  A  want  of  affinity  does  not  necessarily 
imply  an  existing  evil  in  the  other  party.  In  the  present 
ignorance  of  the  world,  our  true  affinities  can  only' be 
imperfectly  felt  and  indulged  ;  and  the  entire  freedom 
which  we  shall  obtain  in  this  respect  is  the  greatest  happi- 
ness of  the  spirit-life," 

Another  time  I  ask6d — 

"  How  is  it  that  the  spirits  of  great  authors  speak  so 
tamely  to  us  ?  Shakspeare,  last  night,  wrote  a  passage 
which  he  would  have  been  heartily  ashamed  of,  as  a  living 
man.  We  know  that  a  spirit  spoke,  calling  himself  Shak- 
speare ;  but,  judging  from  his  communication,  it  could  not 
have  been  he." 

"  It  probably  was  not,"  said  Mr.  Stilton.  "  I  am  con. 
vinced  that  all  malicious  spirits  are  at  work  to  interrupt 


452  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

the  communications  from  the  higher  spheres.  We  were 
thus  deceived  by  one  professing  to  be  Benjamin  Franklin, 
who  drew  for  us  the  plan  of  a  machine  for  splitting  shin- 
gles, which  we  had  fabricated  and  patented  at  considerable 
expense.  On  trial,  however,  it  proved  to  be  a  miserable 
failure,  a  complete  mockery.  When  the  spirit  was  again 
summoned  he  refused  to  speak,  but  shook  the  table  to 
express  his  malicious  laughter,  went  oflf,  and  has  nevei 
since  returned.  My  friend,  we  know  but  the  alphabet  of 
Spiritualism,  the  mere  ABC;  we  can  no  more  expect  to 
master  the  immortal  language  in  a  day  than  a  child  to  read 
Plato  after  learning  his  letters." 

Many  of  those  who  had  been  interested  in  the  usual 
phenomena  gradually  dropped  off,  tired,  and  perhaps  a 
h'ttle  ashamed,  in  the  reaction  following  their  excitement ; 
but  there  were  continual  accessions  to  our  ranks,  and  we 
formed,  at  last,  a  distinct  clan  or  community.  Indeed,  the 
number  of  secret  believers  in  Spiritualism  would  never  be 
suspected  by  the  uninitiated.  In  the  sect,  however,  as  in 
Masonry,  and  the  Catholic  Church,  there  are  circles  within 
circles — concentric  rings,  whence  you  can  look  outwards, 
but  not  inwards,  and  where  he  alone  who  stands  at  the 
centre  is  able  to  perceive  everything.  Such  an  inner  circle 
was  at  last  formed  in  our  town.  Its  object,  according  to 
Stilton,  with  whom  the  plan  originated,  was  to  obtain  a 
urer  spiritual  atmosphere,  by  the  exclusion  of  all  but 
Mediums,  and  those  nou-mediumistic  believers  in  whose 
presence  the  spirits  felt  at  ease,  and  thus  invite  communi- 
cations from  the  farther  and  purer  spheres. 

In  fact,  the  result  seemed  to  justify  the  plan.     The  cb» 


THB  CONFESSIONS   OF  A   MEDIUM.  453 

racter  of  the  trance,  as  I  had  frequently  observed,  is  vitiated 
by  the  consciousness  that  disbelievers  are  present.  The 
more  perfect  the  atniosphere  of  credulity,  the  more  satis 
factory  the  manifestations.  The  expectant  company,  the 
dim  light,  the  conviction  that  a  wonderful  revelation  was 
about  to  dawn  upon  us,  excited  my  imagination,  and  my 
trance  was  really  a  sort  of  delirium,  in  which  I  spoke  with 
a  passion  and  an  eloquence  I  had  never  before  exhibited. 
The  fear,  which  had  previously  haunted  me,  at  times,  of 
giving  ray  brain  and  tongue  into  the  control  of  an  unknown 
power,  was  forgotten  ;  yet,  more  than  ever,  I  was  conscious 
of  some  strong  controlling  influence,  and  experienced  a 
reckless  pleasure  in  permitting  myself  to  be  governed  by  it. 
*'  Prepare,"  I  concluded,  (I  quote  from  the  report  in  the 
"  Revelations,")  "  prepare,  sons  of  men,  for  the  dawning 
day !  Prepare  for  the  second  and  perfect  regeneration  of 
man !  For  the  prison-chambers  have  been  broken  into,  and 
the  light  from  the  interior  shall  illuminate  the  external! 
Ye  shall  enjoy  spiritual  and  passional  freedom ;  your  guides 
shall  no  longer  be  the  despotism  of  ignorant  laws,  nor  the 
whip  of  an  imaginary  conscience, — but  the  natural  impulses 
of  your  nature,  which  are  the  melody  of  Life,  and  the  natu- 
ral affinities,  which  are  its  harmony !  The  reflections  from 
the  upper  spheres  shall  irradiate  the  lower,  and  Death  is 
the  triumphal  arch  through  which  we  pass  fi-om  glory  to 
glory  1" 

1  have  here  paused,  deliberating  whether  I  should 

proceed  farther  in  my  narrative.  But  no  ;  if  any  good  is 
to  be  accomplished  by  these  confessions,  the  reader  must 
walk  with  me  through  the  dark  labyrinth  which  follows 


454  MX  HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

He  must  walk  over  what  may  be  considered  delicate  ground  j 
but  he  shall  not  be  harmed.  One  feature  of  the  trance 
condition  is  too  remarkable,  too  important  in  its  conse- 
quences to  be  overlooked.  It  is  a  feature  of  which  many 
Mediums  are  undoubtedly  ignorant,  the  existence  of 
which  is  not  even  suspected  by  thousands  of  honesi 
Spiiitualiats. 

Let  me  again  anticipate  the  regular  course  of  my  narra 
tive,  and  explain.  A  suspension  of  the  Will,  when  indulged 
in  for  any  length  of  time,  produces  a  suspension  of  that 
inward  consciousness  of  good  and  evil  which  we  call  Con- 
science,  and  which  can  be  actively  exercised  only  through 
the  medium  of  the  Will.  The  mental  faculties  and  the 
moral  perceptions  lie  down  together  in  the  same  passive 
sleep.  The  subject  is,  therefore,  equally  liable  to  receive 
impressions  from  the  minds  of  others,  and  from  their  pas- 
sions and  lusts.  Besides  this,  the  germs  of  all  good  and  of 
all  evil  are  implanted  in  the  nature  of  every  human  being ; 
and  even  when  some  appetite  is  buried  in  a  crypt  so  deep 
that  its  existence  is  forgotten,  let  the  warder  be  removed, 
and  it  will  gradually  work  its  way  to  the  light.  Persons 
in  the  receptive  condition  which  belongs  to  the  trance  may 
be  surrounded  by  honest  and  pure-minded  individuals,  and 
receive  no  harmful  impressions;  they  may  even,  if  of  a 
healthy  spiritual  temperament,  resist  for  a  time  the  aggres- 
sions of  evil  influences ;  but  the  final  danger  is  always  the 
same.  The  state  of  the  Medium,  therefore,  may  be  described 
as  one  in  which  the  Will  is  passive,  the  Conscience  passive, 
the  outward  senses  partially  (sometimes  wholly)  suspended, 
the  mind  helplessly  subject  to  the  operations  of  other  minds, 


TH£  CONFESSIONS   OF   A   MEDIX71C.  456 

and  the  passions  and  desires  released  from  all  restraining 
influences.*  I  make  the  statement  boldly,  after  long  and 
careful  reflection,  and  severe  self-examination. 

As  I  said  before,  I  did  not  entirely  lose  my  external  con- 
Bciousness,  although  it  was  very  dim  and  dream-like.  On 
returning  to  the  natural  state,  my  recollection  of  what  had 
occurred  during  the  trance  became  equally  dim ;  but  I 
retained  a  general  impression  of  the  character  of  the  pos- 
session. I  knew  that  some  foreign  influence — the  spirit  of 
a  dead  poet,  or  hero,  or  saint,  I  then  believed — governed 
me  for  the  time ;  that  I  gave  utterance  to  thoughts  unfa- 
miliar to  my  mind  in  its  conscious  state  ;  and  that  my  own 
individuality  was  lost,  or  so  disguised  that  I  could  no  longer 
recognize  it.  This  very  circumstance  made  the  trance  an 
indulgence,  a  spiritual  intoxication,  no  less  fascinating  than 
that  of  the  body,  although  accompanied  by  a  similar  reac- 
tion. Yet,  behind  all,  dimly  evident  to  me,  there  was  an 
element  of  terror.  There  were  times  when,  back  of  the 
influences  which  spoke  with  my  voice,  rose  another — a  vast, 
overwhelming,  threatening  power,  the  nature  of  which  I 
could  not  grasp,  but  which  I  knew  was  evil.  Even  when 
in  my  natural  state,  listening  to  the  harsh  utterances  of 
Miss  Fetters  or  the  lofty  spiritual  philosophy  of  Mr.  Stilton, 
I  have  felt  for  a  single  second,  the  touch  of  an  icy  wind, 
accompanied  by  a  sensation  of  unutterable  dread. 

Our  secret  circle  had  not  held  many  sessions  before  a 

•  The  recent  experiments  in  Hyjmotism,  in  France,  show  that  a  TMy 
similar  psychological  condition  accompanies  the  trance  produced  by  gazing 
fixedly  upon  a  bright  object  held  near  the  eyes.  I  have  no  doubt,  in  &ci 
that  \\  belongs  i»  every  abnorm^i  state  of  the  miud. 


iM  XT   HOMB   AND   ABROAD. 

remarkable  change  took  place  in  the  character  of  the  reve 
lations.     Mr.  Stilton  ceased  to  report  them  for  his  paper. 

"  We  are  on  the  threshold  at  last,"  said  he ;  "  the  secrets 
of  the  ages  lie  beyond.  The  hands  of  spirits  are  now  lifting 
tne  veil,  fold  by  fold.  Let  us  not  be  startled  by  what  we 
hear :  let  us  show  that  our  eyes  can  bear  the  light — that 
we  are  competent  to  receive  the  wisdom  of  the  higher 
spheres,  and  live  according  to  it." 

Miss  Fetters  was  more  than  ever  possessed  by  the  spirit 
of  Joe  Manton,  whose  allowance  of  grog  having  been  cut 
off  too  suddenly  by  his  death,  he  was  continually  clamoring 
for  a  dram.  "I  tell  you,"  yelled  he,  or  rather  she,  "I 
won't  stand  sich  meanness.  I  ha'n't  come  all  the  way  here 
for  nothin'.  I'll  knock  Erasmus  all  to  thunder,  if  you  go 
for  to  turn  me  out  dry,  and  let  him  come  in." 

Mr.  Stilton  thereupon  handed  him,  or  her,  a  tumbler 
half-full  of  brandy,  which  she  gulped  down  at  a  single 
swallow.  Joe  Manton  presently  retired  to  make  room  for 
Erasmus,  who  spoke  for  some  time  in  Latin,  or  what 
appeared  to  be  Latin.  None  of  us  could  make  much  of  it ; 
but  Mr.  Stilton  declared  that  the  Latin  pronunciation  of 
Erasmus  was  probably  different  from  ours,  or  that  he  might 
have  learned  the  true  Roman  accent  from  Cicero  and  Seneca, 
with  whom,  doubtless,  he  was  now  on  intimate  terms.  As 
Erasmus  generally  concluded  by  throwing  his  "arms,  or 
rather  the  arms  of  Miss  Fetters,  around  the  neck  of  Mr. 
Stilton — his  spirit  fraternizing,  apparently,  with  the  spiiil 
of  the  latter — we  greatly  regretted  that  his  communication? 
were  unintelligible,  on  account  of  the  superior  wisdoiv 
which  they  might  be  supposed  to  contain. 


THB   CONFESSIONS    OF   A   MBDIUM.  457 

T  confess,  1  cannot  recall  the  part  I  played  in  what  would 
have  been  a  pitiable  farce,  if  it  had  not  been  so  terribly 
tragical,  without  a  feeling  of  utter  shame.  Nothing  but 
Qiy  profound  sympathy  for  the  thousands  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands who  are  still  subject  to  the  same  delusion  could  corn- 
el me  to  such  a  sacrifice  of  pride.     Curioiisly  enough  (as 

thought  then^  but  not  now),  the  enunciation  of  sentiments 
opposed  to  my  moral  sense — the  abolition,  in  fact,  of  all 
moral  restraint — came  from  my  lips,  while  the  actions  of 
Miss  Fettei-s  hinted  at  their  practical  application.  Upon 
the  ground  that  the  interests  of  the  soul  were  paramount  to 
all  human  laws  and  customs,  I  declared — or  rather,  my 
voice  declared — that  self-denial  was  a  fatal  error,  to  which 
half  the  misery  of  mankind  could  be  traced ;  that  the  pas- 
sions, held  as  slaves,  exhibited  only  the  brutish  nature  of 
slaves,  and  would  be  exalted  and  glorified  by  entire  free- 
dom ;  and  that  our  sole  guidance  ought  to  come  from  the 
voices  of  the  spirits  who  communicated  with  us,  instead  of 
the  imperfect  laws  constructed  by  our  benighted  fellow-men. 
HoAv  clear  and  logical,  how  lofty,  these  doctrines  seemed ! 
If,  at  times,  something  in  their  nature  repelled  me,  I  simply 
attributed  it  to  the  fact  that  I  was  still  but  a  neophyte  in 
the  S]nritual  Philosophy,  and  incapable  of  perceiving  the 
truth  with  entire  clearness. 

Mr.  Stilton  had  a  wife, — one  of  those  meek,  amiable, 
simple-hearted  women  whose  individuality  seems  to  be 
completely  absorbed  into  that  of  their  husbands.  When 
such  women  are  wedded  to  frank,  tender,  protecting  men, 
,heir  lives  are  truly  blessed ;  but  they  are  willing  slaves  to 
the  domestic  tyrant.    They  bear  uncomplainingly, — many 


458  AT  HOME  AKD   ABBOAD. 

of  them  even  without  a  thought  of  complaint, — and  die  at 
last  with  their  hearts  full  of  love  for  the  brutes  who  have 
trampled  upon  them.  Mrs.  Stilton  was  perhaps  forty  yearn 
of  age,  of  middle  height,  moderately  plump  in  person,  witl; 
light-brown  hair,  soft,  inexpressive  gray  eyes,  and  a  meek, 
helpless,  imploring  mouth.  Her  voice  was  mild  and  plain- 
tive, and  its  accents  of  anger  (if  she  ever  gave  utterance  to 
such)  could  not  have  been  distinguished  from  those  of  grie£ 
She  did  not  often  attend  our  sessions,  and  it  was  evident, 
that,  while  she  endeavored  to  comprehend  the  revelations, 
in  order  to  please  her  husband,  their  import  was  very  far 
beyond  her  comprehension.  She  was  now  and  then  a  little 
frightened  at  utterances  which  no  doubt  sounded  lewd  or 
profane  to  her  ears ;  but  alter  a  glance  at  Mr.  Stilton's  face, 
and  finding  that  it  betrayed  neither  horror  nor  surprise, 
would  persuade  herself  that  everything  must  be  right. 

"  Are  you  sure,"  she  once  timidly  whispered  to  me,  "  are 

you  very  sure,  Mr. ,  that  there  is  no  danger  of  being 

led  astray  ?  It  seems  strange  to  me ;  but  perhaps  I  don't 
understand  it.'' 

Her  question  was  so  indefinite,  that  I  found  it  difficult 
to  answer.  Stilton,  however,  seeing  me  engaged  in  endea- 
voring to  make  clear  to  her  the  glories  of  the  new  truth, 
exclaimed, — 

"That's  right,  John  I  Your  spiritual  plane  slants  through 
many  spheres,  and  has  points  of  contact  with  a  great  vari- 
ety of  souls.  I  hope  my  wife  will  be  able  to  see  the  light 
through  you,  since  I  appear  to  be  too  opaque  for  ter  to 
receive  it  from  me." 

"  Oh,  Abijah ! "  said  the  poor  woman,  "  you  know  it  ii 


THB  CONFESSIONS   OF  A  HSDIUM.  469 

iny  fault.  I  try  to  follow,  and  I  hope  I  have  &ith,  thoagh 
I  don't  see  everything  as  clearly  as  you  do." 

I  began  also  to  have  my  own  doubts,  as  I  perceived  that 
an  "  affinity  "  was  gradually  being  developed  between  Stil- 
ton and  Miss  Fetters.  She  was  more  and  more  frequently 
possessed  by  the  spirit  of  Erasmus,  whose  salutations,  on 
meeting  and  parting  with  his  brother-philosopher,  were  too 
enthusiastic  for  merely  masculine  love.  But,  whenever  I 
hinted  at  the  possibility  of  mistaking  the  impulses  of  the 
Boul,  or  at  evil  resulting  from  a  too  sudden  and  universal 
liberation  of  the  passions,  Stilton  always  silenced  me  with 
his  inevitable  logic.  Having  once  accepted  the  premises, 
I  could  not  avoid  the  conclusions. 

"  When  our  natures  are  in  harmony  with  spirit-matter 
throughout  the  spheres,''  he  would  say,  "  our  impulses 
will  always  be  in  accordance.  Or,  if  there  should  be  any 
temporary  disturbance,  arising  from  our  necessary  inter- 
course with  the  gross,  blinded  multitude,  we  can  always 
fly  to  our  spiritual  monitors  for  counsel.  Will  not  they, 
the  immortal  souls  of  the  ages  past,  who  have  guided  us 
to  a  knowledge  of  the  truth,  assist  us  also  in  preserving  it 
pure  ?  " 

In  spite  of  this,  in  spite  of  my  admiration  of  Stilton's 
intellect,  and  my  yet  unshaken  faith  in  Spiritualism,  I  was 
conscious  that  the  harmony  of  the  circle  was  becoming 
impaired  in  me.  Was  I  falling  behind  in  spiritual  progress  ? 
Was  I  too  weak  to  be  the  medium  for  the  promised  reve- 
lations ?  I  threw  myself  again  and  again  into  the  trance, 
with  a  recklessness  of  soul  which  fitted  me  to  receive  any, 
even  the  darkest  impressions,  to  catch  and  proclaim  every 


460  AT   HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

guilty  whisper  of  the  senses,  and,  while  under  the  influeno< 
of  the  excitement,  to  exult  in  the  age  of  license  which  ] 
believed  to  be  at  hand.  But  darker,  stronger  grew  the 
terror  which  lurked  behind  this  spiritual  carnival.  A  more 
tremendous  power  than  that  which  I  now  recognized  as 
coming  from  Stilton's  brain  was  present,  and  I  saw  myself 
whirUng  nearer  and  nearer  to  its  grasp.  I  felt,  by  a  sort 
of  blind  instinct,  too  vague  to  be  expressed,  that  some  de- 
moniac agency  had  thrust  itself  into  the  manifestations,— 
perhaps  had  been  mingled  ^vith  them  from  the  outset. 

For  two  or  three  months,  my  life  was  the  strangest  mix- 
ture of  happiness  and  misery.  I  walked  about  with  the 
sense  of  some  crisis  hanging  over  me.  My  "  possessions  " 
became  fiercer  and  wilder,  and  the  reaction  so  much  more 
exhausting  that  I  fell  into  the  habit  of  restoring  myself  by 
means  of  the  bottle  of  brandy  which  Mr.  Stilton  took  care 
should  be  on  hand,  in  case  of  a  visit  from  Joe  Manton. 
Miss  Fetters,  strange  to  say,  was  not  in  the  least  affected 
by  the  powerful  draughts  she  imbibed.  But,  at  the  same 
time,  my  waking  life  was  growing  brighter  and  brighter 
under  the  power  of  a  new  and  delicious  experience.  My 
nature  is  eminently  social,  and  I  had  not  been  able — indeed, 
I  did  not  desire — wholly  to  withdraw  myself  from  inter, 
course  with  non-believers.  There  was  too  much  in  society 
that  was  congenial  to  me  to  be  given  up.  My  instinctive 
dislike  to  Miss  Abby  Fetters,  and  my  compassionate  regard 
for  Mrs.  Stilton's  weakness,  only  served  to  render  the  com- 
pany of  intelligent,  cultivated  women  more  attractive  to 
me.  Among  those  whom  I  n\et  most  frequently  was  Miss 
^gnes  Honeywood,  a   calm,  quiet,  unobtrusive  girl,  th« 


THX  CONFESSIONS    OF   A    M£DIUM.  461 

characteristic  of  whose  face  was  sweetness  rather  than 
beauty,  while  the  first  feeling  she  inspired  was  respect 
rather  than  admiration.  She  had  just  that  amount  of  self- 
possession  which  conceals  without  conquering  the  sweet 
timidity  of  woman.  Her  voice  was  low,  yet  clear;  and 
er  mild  eyes,  I  found,  were  capable,  on  occasion,  of  both 
flashing  and  melting.  Why  describe  her?  I  loved  her 
before  I  knew  it ;  but,  with  the  consciousness  of  my  love,  that 
clairvoyant  sense  on  which  I  learned  to  depend  failed  for 
the  first  time.  Did  she  love  me  ?  When  I  songht  to  an- 
swer the  question  in  her  presence,  all  was  confusion  within. 

This  was  not  the  only  new  influence  which  entered  into 
and  increased  the  tumult  of  my  mind.  The  other  half  of 
my  two-sided  nature — the  cool,  reflective,  investigating 
faculty — had  been  gradually  ripening,  and  the  questions 
which  it  now  began  to  present  seriously  disturbed  the 
complacency  of  my  theories.  I  saw  that  I  had  accepted 
many  things  on  very  unsatisfactory  evidence  ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  there  was  much  for  which  I  could  find  no  other 
explanation.  Let  me  be  frank,  and  say,  that  I  do  not  now 
pretend  to  explain  all  the  phenomena  of  Spiritualism.  This, 
however,  I  determined  to  do, — ^to  ascertam,  if  possible, 
whether  the  influences  which  governed  me  in  the  trance 
state  came  from  the  pei'sons  around,  from  the  exercise  of 
some  independent  faculty  of  my  own  mind,  or  really  and 
truly  from  the  spirits  of  the  dead.  Mr.  Stilton  appeared 
to  notice  that  some  internal  conflict  was  going  on  ;  but  he 
said  nothing  in  regard  to  it,  and,  as  events  proved,  he 
entirely  miscalculated  its  character. 

I  said  to  myself. — "  If  this  chaos  continues,  it  will  drive 


462  AT   HOMB   AND   ABROAD. 

me  mad,  Let  me  have  one  bit  of  solid  earth  beneath  mj 
feet,  and  I  can  stand  until  it  subsides.  Let  me  throw  ovei 
the  best  bower  of  the  heart,  since  all  the  anchors  of  th 
mind  are  dragging!"  I  summoned  resolution.  I  made 
that  desperate  venture  which  no  true  man  makes  without  a 
pang  of  forced  courage ;  but,  thank  God  !  I  did  not  make 
it  in  vain.  Agnes  loved  me,  and  in  the  deep,  quiet  bliss 
which  this  knowledge  gave  I  felt  the  promise  of  deliver- 
ance. She  knew  and  lamented  my  connexion  with  the 
Spiritualists ;  but,  perceiving  my  mental  condition  from  the 
few  intimations  which  I  dared  to  give  her,  discreetly  held 
her  peace.  But  I  could  read  the  anxious  expression  of  that 
gentle  face  none  the  less. 

My  first  endeavor  to  solve  the  new  questions  was  to  check 
the  abandon  of  the  trance  condition,  and  interfuse  it  with 
more  of  sober  consciousness.  It  was  a  diflScult  task  j  and 
nothing  but  the  circumstance  that  my  consciousness  had 
never  been  entirely  lost  enabled  me  to  make  any  progress. 
I  finally  succeeded,  as  I  imagined  (certainty  is  impossible), 
in  separating  the  difierent  influences  which  impressed  me — 
perceiving  where  one  terminated  and  the  other  commenced, 
or  /vhere  two  met  and  my  mind  vibrated  from  one  to  the 
other  until  the  stronger  prevailed,  or  where  a  thought 
which  seemed  to  originate  in  my  own  brain  took  the  lead 
and  swept  away  with  me  like  the  mad  rush  of  a  prairie  colt. 
When  out  of  the  trance,  I  noticed  attentively  the  expres 
rions  made  use  of  by  Mr.  Stilton  and  the  other  members  o* 
the  circle,  and  was  surprised  to  find  how  many  of  them  I 
had  re])roduced.  But  might  they  not,  in  the  first  place, 
h»ve  been  derived  from  me  ?    And  what  was  the  vague, 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OP   A    MEDIUM.  463 

dark  Presence  which  still  overshadowed  me  at  such  times  ? 
What  was  that  power  which  I  had  tempted — which  we 
were  all  tempting,  every  time  we  met — and  which  continu 
ally  drew  nearer  and  became  more  threatening  ?  I  knew 
not;  and  I  know  not.  I  would  rather  not  speak  or  think 
of  it  any  more. 

My  suspicions  vnXh  regard  to  Stilton  and  Miss  Fetters, 
were  confirmed  by  a  number  of  circumstances  which  I  need 
not  describe.  That  he  should  treat  his  wife  in  a  harsh, 
ironical  manner,  which  the  poor  woman  felt,  but  could  not 
understand,  did  not  surprise  me  ;  but  at  other  times  there 
was  a  treacherous  tenderness  about  him.  He  would  dilate 
eloquently  upon  the  bliss  of  living  in  accordance  with  the 
spiritual  harmonies.  Among  ws,  he  said,  there  could  be  no 
more  hatred  or  mistrust  or  jealousy — nothing  but  love, 
pure,  unselfish,  perfect  love.  "  You,  my  dear,"  (turning 
to  Mrs.  Stilton,)  "  belong  to  a  sphere  which  is  included 
within  my  own,  and  share  in  my  harmonies  and  affinities ; 
yet  the  soul-matter  which  adheres  to  you  is  of  a  different 
texture  from  mine.  Yours  has  also  its  independent  affini- 
ties ;  I  see  and  respect  them ;  and  even  though  they  might 
lead  our  bodies — our  outward,  material  lives — away  from 
one  another,  we  should  still  be  true  to  that  glorious  light 
of  love  waich  permeates  all  soul-matter." 

"  Oh,  Abijah !"  cried  Mrs.  Stilton,  really  distressed, 
"  how  can  you  say  such  a  thing  of  me  ?  You  know  I  can 
never  adhere  to  anybody  else  but  you !" 

Stilton  would  then  call  in  my  aid  to  explain  his  meaning, 
asserting  that  I  had  a  faculty  of  reaching  his  wife's  intel- 
lect, which  he  did  not  himself  possess.     Feeling  a  certain 


464  AT  HOME  AND   ABBOAD. 

sympatty  for  her  painful  confusion  of  mind,  I  did  ray  best 
to  give  his  words  an  interpretation  which  soothed  her  fears. 
Then  she  begged  his  pardon,  taking  all  the  blame  to  her 
own  stupidity,  and  received  his  grudged,  unwilling  kiss 
with  a  restored  happiness  which  pained  me  to  the  heart. 

I  had  a  growing  presentiment  of  some  approaching  cata 
strophe.  I  felt,  distinctly,  the  presence  of  unhallowed  pas- 
sions in  our  circle  ;  and  my  steadfast  love  for  Agnes,  borne 
thither  in  my  bosom,  seemed  like  a  pure  white  dove  in  a 
cage  of  unclean  birds.  Stilton  held  me  from  him  by  the 
superior  strength  of  his  intellect.  I  began  to  mistrust,  even 
to  hate  him,  while  I  was  still  subject  to  his  power,  and  una- 
ble to  acquaint  him  with  the  change  in  my  feelings.  Misa 
Fetters  was  so  repulsive  that  I  never  spoke  to  her  when  it 
could  be  avoided.  I  had  tolerated  her,  heretofore,  for  the 
■ake  of  her  spiritual  gift ;  but  now,  when  I  began  to  doubt 
the  authenticity  of  that  gift,  her  hungry  eyes,  her  thin  lips, 
her  flat  breast,  and  cold,  dry  hands  excited  in  me  a  sensa- 
lion  of  absolute  abhorrence. 

The  doctrine  of  affinities  had  some  time  before  been 
adopted  by  the  circle,  as  a  part  of  the  Spiritual  Truth. 
Other  circles,  with  which  we  were  in  communication,  had 
also  received  the  same  revelation ;  and  the  ground  upon 
which  it  was  based,  in  fact,  rendered  its  acceptance  eas^. 
Even  I,  shielded  as  I  was  by  the  protecting  arms  of  a  pure 
love,  sought  in  vain  for  arguments  to  refute  a  doctrine,  the 
practical  operation  of  which,  I  saw,  might  be  so  dangerous. 
The  soul  had  a  right  to  seek  its  kina'red  soul :  that  I  could 
not  deny.  Having  found,  they  belonged  to  each  other. 
Love  is  the  only  ^aw  which  those  who  love  are  bound  t« 


THE    COXFESSIOXS     OP    A    MEDIUM.  465 

obey.  I  shall  not  repeat  all  the  sophistry  whereby  these 
positions  were  strengthened.  The  doctrine  soon  blossomed 
and  bore  fruit,  the  nature  of  which  left  no  doubt  as  to  the 
character  of  the  tree. 

The  catastrophe  came  sooner  than  I  had  anticipated,  and 
partly  through  my  own  instrumentality;  though,  in  any 
case,  it  must  finally  have  come.  We  were  met  together  at 
the  house  of  one  of  the  most  zealous  and  fanatical  believ- 
ers. There  were  but  eight  peraons  present — the  host  and 
his  wife,  (an  equally  zealous  proselyte,)  a  middle-aged 
bachelor  neighbor,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stilton,  Miss  Fetters  and 
her  father,  and  myself.  It  was  a  still,  cloudy,  sultry  eve- 
ning, after  one  of  those  dull,  oppressive  days  when  all  the 
bad  blood  in  a  man  seems  to  be  uppermost  in  his  veins. 
The  manifestations  upon  the  table,  with  which  we  com- 
menced, were  imusually  rapid  and  lively.  "  I  am  convinced," 
said  Mr.  Stilton,  "  that  we  shall  receive  important  revela- 
tions to-night.  My  own  mind  possesses  a  clearness  and 
quickness,  which,  I  have  noticed,  always  precede  the  visit 
of  a  superior  spirit.  Let  us  be  passive  and  receptive,  my 
friends.  We  are  but  instruments  in  the  hands  of  loftier 
intelligences, and  only  through  our  obedience  can  this  second 
advent  of  Truth  be  fulfilled." 

He  looked  at  me  with  that  expression  which  I  so  well 
knew,  as  the  signal  for  a  surrender  of  my  will.  I  had  come 
ather  unwillingly,  for  I  was  getting  heartily  tired  of  the 
business,  and  longed  to  shake  off  my  habit  of  (spiritual) 
intoxication,  which  no  longer  possessed  any  attraction, 
since  I  had  been  allowed  to  visit  Agnes  as  an  accepted  lover. 
In  fact,  I  continued  to  hold  my  place  in  the  circle  princi- 


466  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

pally  for  the  sake  of  satisfying  myself  with  regard  to  the 
real  nature  and  causes  of  the  phenomena.  On  this  night, 
something  in  Mr.  Stilton's  face  arrested  my  attention,  and 
a  rapi(J  inspiration  flashed  through  my  mind.  "  Suppose,** 
I  thought,  "  I  allow  the  usual  eflfect  to  be  produced,  yet 
leverse  the  character  of  its  operation  ?  I  am  convinced 
that  he  has  been  directing  the  current  of  my  thought  accord- 
ing to  his  will ;  let  me  now  render  myself  so  thoroughly 
passive,  that  my  mind,  like  a  mirror,  shall  reflect  what  passes 
through  his,  retaining  nothing  of  my  own  except  the  simple 
consciousness  of  what  I  am  doing."  Perhaps  this  was 
exactly  what  he  desired.  He  sat,  bending  forward  a  little 
over  the  table,  his  square  jaws  firmly  set,  his  eyes  hidden 
beneath  their  heavy  brows,  and  every  long,  wiry  hair  on 
his  head  in  its  proper  place.  I  fixed  my  eyes  upon  him, 
threw  my  mind  into  a  state  of  perfect  receptivity,  and 
waited. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  felt  his  approach.  Shadow  after 
shadow  flitted  across  the  still  mirror  of  my  inward  sense. 
Whether  the  thoughts  took  words  in  his  brain  or  in  mine, 
—whether  I  first  caught  his  disjointed  musings,  and,  by 
their  utterance  reacting  upon  him,  gave  system  and  deve- 
lopment to  his  thoughts — I  cannot  tell.  But  this  I  know  , 
what  I  said  came  wholly  from  him — not  from  the  slandered 
spirits  of  the  dead,  not  from  the  vagaries  of  my  own  ima- 
gination, but  from  him.  "  Listen  to  me  I"  I  said.  "  In 
the  flesh  I  was  a  martyr  to  the  Truth,  and  I  am  pennitted 
to  communicate  only  with  those  whom  the  Truth  has  made 
free.  You  are  the  heralds  of  the  great  day ;  you  have 
climbed  fropi  sphere  to  sphere,  until  now  you  stand  neai 


THB  COKFBSSIONS   OF   A   HBDITTM.  46) 

the  fountains  of  light.     But  it  is  not  enough  that  you  see 
your  lives  must  reflect  the  light.     The  inward  vision  is  for 
you,  but  the  outward  manifestation  thereof  is  for  the  souls 
of  others.     Fulfil  the  harmonies  in  the  flesh.     Be  the  living 
music,  not  the  silent  instruments." 

There  was  more,  much  more  of  this — a  plenitude  of  elo- 
quent sound,  which  seems  to  embody  sublime  ideas,  but 
which,  carefully  examined,  contains  no  more  palpable  sub- 
stance than  sea-froth.  If  the  reader  will  take  the  trouble 
to  read  an  "  Epic  of  the  Starry  Heavens,"  the  production 
of  a  Spiritual  Medium,  he  aHU  find  several  hundred  pages 
of  the  same  character.  But,  by  degrees,  the  revelation 
descended  to  details,  and  assumed  a  personal  application. 
*  In  you,  in  all  of  you,  the  spiritual  harmonies  are  still  vio- 
^ted,"  was  the  conclusion.  "  You,  Abijah  Stilton,  who  are 
chosen  to  hold  up  the  light  of  truth  to  the  world,  require 
that  a  transparent  soul,  capable  of  transmitting  that  light 
to  you,  should  be  allied  to  yours.  She  who  is  called  your 
wife  is  a   clouded  lens;  she   can   receive  the  light   only 

through  John ,  who  is  her  true  spiritual  husband,  as 

Abby  Fetters  is  ycmr  true  spiritual  wife !" 

I  was  here  conscious  of  a  sudden  cessation  of  the  influ- 
ence which  forced  me  to  speak,  and  stopped.  The  mem- 
bers of  the  circle  opposite  to  me — the  host,  his  wife, 
neighbor,  and  old  Mr.  Fetters — were  silent,  but  their  faces 
exhibited  more  satisfaction  than  astonishment.  My  eye 
fell  upon  Mrs.  Stilton.  Her  face  was  pale,  her  eyes  widely 
opened,  and  her  lips  dropped  apart,  with  a  stunned,  bewil- 
dered expression.  It  was  the  blank  fiice  of  a  woman  walk- 
ing in  her  sleep.    These  observations  were  accomplished  id 


468  AT   BOMK  A2iD   ABEOAO. 

an  instant ;  for  Miss  Fetters,  suddenly  possessed  with  tli« 
spirit  of  Black  Hawk,  sprang  upon  her  feet.  "  Ugh ! 
ugh ! "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  deep,  harsh  voice,  "  where's  the 
pale-face  ?  Black  Hawk,  he  like  him — he  love  him  much  I" 
—and  therewith  threw  her  arms  around  Stilton,  fairlj 
ifting  him  off  his  feet.  "  Ugh  !  fire-water  for  Black  Hawk ! 
—big  Injun  drink  1" — and  she  tossed  off  a  tumbler  of 
brandy.  By  this  time  I  had  wholly  recovered  my  con- 
sciousness, but  remained  silent,  stupefied  by  the  extraordi- 
nary scene. 

Presently  Miss  Fetters  became  more  quiet,  and  the  pos- 
session left  her.  "  My  friends,"  said  Stilton,  in  his  cold, 
unmoved  voice,  "  I  feel  that  the  spirit  has  spoken  truly 
We  must  obey  our  spiritual  affinities,  or  our  great  and 
glorious  mission  will  be  unfulfilled.  Let  us  rather  rejoice 
that  we  have  been  selected  as  the  instruments  to  do  this 
work.  Come  to  me,  Abby ;  and  you,  Rachel,  remember 
that  our  harmony  is  not  disturbed,  but  only  made  more 
complete.'' 

"  Abijah !''  exclaimed  Mrs.  Stilton,  with  a  pitiful  cry, 
while  the  tears  burst  hot  and  fast  from  her  eyes  ;  "  dear  bus. 
band,  what  does  this  mean  ?  Oh,  don't  tell  me  that  I  am 
to  be  cast  off!  You  promised  to  love  me  and  care  for  me, 
Abijah !  I'm  not  bright,  I  know,  but  I'll  try  to  understand 
you ;  indeed,  I  will !  Oh,  don't  be  so  cruel  ! — don't" — 
nd  the  poor  creature's  voice  completely  gave  way. 

She  dropped  on  the  floor  at  his  feet,  and  lay  there,  sob 
bing  piteously. 

"  Rachel,  Rachel,"  said  he — and  his  face  was  net  quit* 
■o  calm  as  his  voice — "  don't  be  rebellious.     We  are  gov 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OF    A    MEDIUII  469 

erned  by  a  higher  Power.     This  is  all  for  our  own  good, 

and  for  the  good  of  the  world.  Besides,  ours  was  not  a 
perfect  affinity.  You  will  be  much  happier  with  John,  as 
he  harmonizes  " 

I  could  endure  it  no  longer.  Indignation,  pity,  the  full 
energy  of  my  will  possessed  me.  He  lost  his  power  over 
me  then,  and  forever. 

"  What !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  you  blasphemer,  beast  that 
you  are,  you  dare  to  dispose  of  your  honest  wife  in  this 
infamous  way,  that  you  may  be  free  to  indulge  your  own 
vile  appetites  ? — you,  who  have  outraged  the  dead  and  the 
living  alike,  by  making  me  utter  your  forgeries?  Take 
her  back,  and  let  this  disgraceful  scene  end ! — take  her 
back,  or  I  will  give  you  a  brand  that  shall  last  to  the  end 
of  your  days !'' 

He  turned  deadly  pale,  and  trembled.  I  knew  that  he 
made  a  desperate  effort  to  bring  me  under  the  control  of 
his  will,  and  laughed  mockingly  as  I  saw  his  knit  brow  and 
the  swollen  veins  in  his  temples.  As  for  the  others,  they 
seemed  paralyzed  by  the  suddenness  and  fierceness  of  my 
attack.  He  wavered  but  for  an  instant,  however,  and  his 
self-possession  returned. 

"  Ha  ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  it  is  the  Spirit  of  Evil  that 
speaks  in  him  !  The  Devil  himself  has  risen  to  destroy  our 
glorious  fabric  !  Help  me,  friends  !  help  me  to  bind  him, 
and  to  silence  his  infernal  voice,  before  he  drives  the  pure 
spirits  from  our  midst !  " 

With  that,  he  advanced  a  step  towards  me,  and  raised  a 
hand  to  seize  my  arm,  while  the  others  followed  behind. 
But  I  was  too  quick  for  him.     Weak  as  I  was,  in  compari- 


4^0  AT   HOME  AND   ABBOAD. 

9on,  rage  gave  me  strength,  and  a  blow,  delivered  with  th« 
rapidity  of  lightning  just  under  the  chin,  laid  him  sense- 
less on  the  floor.  Mrs.  Stilton  screamed,  and  threw  herseli 
over  him.  The  rest  of  the  company  remained  as  if  stupe- 
fied. The  storm  which  had  been  gathering  all  the  evening 
at  the  same  instant  broke  over  the  house  in  simultaneous 
thunder  and  rain. 

I  stepped  suddenly  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  drew  a 
long,  deep  breath  of  relief,  as  I  found  myself  alone  in  the 
darkness.  "  Now,"  said  I,  "  I  have  done  tampering  with 
God's  best  gift ;  I  will  be  satisfied  with  the  natural  sun- 
shine which  beams  from  His  Word  and  from  His  Works ; 
I  have  learned  wisdom  at  the  expense  of  shame !  "  I  ex- 
ulted in  my  new  freedom,  in  my  restored  purity  of  soul ; 
and  the  wind,  that  swept  down  the  dark,  lonely  street, 
seemed  to  exult  with  me.  The  rains  beat  upon  me,  but  I 
heeded  them  not ;  nay,  I  turned  aside  from  the  homeward 
path,  in  order  to  pass  by  the  house  where  Agnes  lived. 
Her  window  was  dark,  and  I  knew  she  was  sleeping,  lulled 
by  the  storm;  but  I  stood  a  moment  below,  in  the  rain, 
and  said  aloud,  softly — 

"  Now,  Agnes,  I  belong  wholly  to  you !  Pray  to  God 
for  me,  darling,  that  I  may  never  lose  the  true  light  I  have 
found  at  last  I " 

My  healing,  though  complete  in  the  end,  was  not  instan- 
taneous. The  habit  of  the  trance,  I  found,  had  really 
unpaired  the  action  of  my  will.  I  experienced  a  periodic 
tendency  to  return  to  it,  which  I  have  been  able  to  over 
come  only  by  the  most  vigorous  efforts.  I  found  it  pru 
dent,  indeed,  to  banish  from  my  mind,  as  £Etr  as  was  poed 


THE   CONFESSIONS   OF   A   MEDIUM.  471 

ble,  all  subjects,  all  memories,  connected  with  Spiritualism 
In  this  work  I  was  aided  by  Agnes,  who  now  possessed  my 
entire  confidence,  and  who  willingly  took  upon  herself  the 
guidance  of  my  mmd  at  those  seasons  when  my  own 
governing  faculties  flagged.  Gradually  my  mental  health 
returned,  and  I  am  now  beyond  all  danger  of  ever  again 
being  led  into  such  fatal  dissipations.  The  writing  of  this 
narrative,  in  fact,  has  been  a  test  of  my  ability  to  overlook 
and  describe  my  experience  without  being  touched  by  its 
past  delusions.  If  some  portions  of  it  should  not  be  wholly 
intelligible  to  the  reader,  the  defect  lies  in  the  very  nature 
of  the  subject. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  I  have  given  but  a  partial  expla- 
nation of  the  spiritual  phenomena.  Of  the  genuineness  of 
the  physical  manifestations  I  am  fully  convinced,  and  I  can 
account  for  them  only  by  the  supposition  of  some  subtle 
agency  whereby  the  human  will  operates  upon  inert  mat- 
ter. Clairvoyance  is  a  sufficient  explanation  of  the  utter- 
ances of  the  Mediums — at  least  of  those  which  I  have 
heard  ;  but  there  is,  as  I  have  said  before,  something  in  the 
background,  which  I  feel  too  indistinctly  to  describe,  yet 
which  I  know  to  be  Evil.  I  do  not  wonder  at,  though  I 
lament,  the  prevalence  of  the  belief  in  Spiiitualism.  In  a 
few  individual  cases  it  may  have  been  productive  of  good, 
but  its  general  tendency  is  evil.  There  are  probably  but 
few  Stiltons  among  its  apostles,  few  Miss  Fetterses  among 
its  Mediums;  but  the  condition  which  accompanies  the 
trance,  as  I  have  shown,  inevitably  removes  the  wholesome 
check  which  holds  our  baser  passions  in  subjection.  The 
Medium  is  at  the  mercy  of  any  evil  will,  and  the  impre» 


472  AT  HOME  AlCD   ABKOAD. 

sions  received  from  a  corrupt  mind  are  always  liable  to  be 
accepted  by  innocent  believers  as  revelations  from  tbe 
spirits  of  the  holy  dead.  I  shall  shock  many  honest  soula 
by  this  confession,  but  I  hope  and  believe  that  it  may 

waken  and  enlighten  others.  Its  publication  is  necessary 
as  an  expiation  for  some  of  the  evil  which  has  been  done 
through  my  own  instrumentality. 

I  learned,  two  days  afterwards,  that  Stilton  (who  was  not 
seriously  damaged  by  my  blow)  had  gone  to  New  York, 
taking  Miss  Fetters  with  him.  Her  ignorant,  weak-minded 
father  was  entirely  satisfied  with  the  proceeding.  Mrs. 
Stilton,  helpless  and  heart-broken,  remained  at  the  house 
where  our  circle  had  met,  with  her  only  child,  a  boy  of 
three  years  of  age,  who,  fortunately,  inherited  her  weak- 
ness rather  than  his  father's  power.  Agnes,  on  learning 
this,  insisted  on  having  her  removed  from  associations 
which  were  at  once  unhappy  and  dangerous.  "We  went 
together  to  see  her,  and,  after  much  persuasion,  and  many 
painful  scenes  which  I  shall  not  recapitulate,  succeeded  in 
sending  her  to  her  father,  a  farmer  in  Connecticut.  She 
still  remains  there,  hoping  for  the  day  when  her  guilty 
husband  shall  return  and  be  instantly  forgiven. 

My  task  is  ended ;  may  it  not  have  been  performed  in 
rainl 


VIII. 

THE   HAUNTED   SHANTY. 

As  the  principal  personage  of  this  story  is  dead,  and 
there  is  no  likelihood  that  any  of  the  others  will  ever  see 
the  "  Atlantic  Monthly,''  I  feel  free  to  tell  it  without  reser 
vation. 

The  mercantile  house  of  which  I  was  until  recently  an 
active  member  had  many  business  connexions  throughout 
the  Western  States,  and  I  was  therefore  in  the  habit  of 
making  an  annual  journey  throughout  them,  in  the  interest 
of  the  firm.  In  fact,  I  was  always  glad  to  escape  from  the 
dirt  and  hubbub  of  Cortland  Street,  and  to  exchange  the 
smell  of  goods  and  boxes,  cellars  and  gutters,  for  that  of 
prairie  grass  and  even  of  prairie  mud.  Although  wearing 
the  immaculate  linen  and  golden  studs  of  the  city  Valen- 
tine, there  still  remained  a  good  deal  of  the  country  Orson 
in  my  blood,  and  I  endured  many  hard,  repulsive,  yea, 
downright  vulgar  experiences  for  the  sake  of  a  run  at  large, 
and  the  healthy  animal  exaltation  which  accompanied  it. 

Eight  or  nine  years  ago,  (it  is,  perhaps,  as  well  not  to  b« 
fery  precise,  as  yet,  with  regard  to  dates,)  I  found  myself 


474  Xr  HOM£  AKD  ABBOAD. 

at  Peoria,  in  Illinois,  rather  late  in  the  season.  The  bad- 
ness I  had  on  hand  was  mostly  transacted ;  but  it  was 
still  necessary  that  I  should  visit  Bloomington  and  Terre 
Haute  before  returning  to  the  East.  I  had  come  from 
Wisconsin  and  Northern  Illinois,  and,  as  the  great  railroad 
spider  of  Chicago  had  then  spun  but  a  few  threads  of  his 
present  tremendous  mesh,  I  had  made  the  greater  part  of 
my  journey  on  horseback.  By  the  time  I  reached  Peoria 
the  month  of  November  was  well  advanced,  and  the 
weather  had  become  very  disagreeable.  I  was  strongly 
tempted  to  sell  my  horse  and  take  the  stage  to  Blooming- 
ton,  but  the  roads  were  even  worse  to  a  traveller  on 
wheels  than  to  one  in  the  saddle,  and  the  sunny  day  which 
followed  my  arrival  flattered  me  with  the  hope  that  others 
as  fair  might  succeed  it. 

The  distance  to  Bloomington  was  forty  miles,  and  the 
road  none  of  the  best ;  yet,  as  my  horse  "Peck"  (an  abbre- 
viation of  "  Pecatoiiica"),  had  had  two  days'  rest,  I  did  not 
leave  Peoria  until  after  the  usual  dinner  at  twelve  o'clock, 
trusting  that  I  should  reach  my  destination  by  eight  or 
nine  in  the  evening,  at  the  latest.  Broad  bands  of  dull, 
gray,  felt-like  clouds  crossed  the  sky,  and  the  wind  had  a 
rough  edge  to  it  which  predicted  that  there  was  rain  within 
a  day's  march.  The  oaks  along  the  rounded  river-bluflEs 
still  held  on  to  their  leaves,  although  the  latter  were 
entirely  brown  and  dead,  and  rattled  around  me  with  an 
ominous  sound,  as  I  climbed  to  the  level  of  the  prairie, 
leaving  the  bed  of  the  muddy  Illinois  below.  Peck's  hoofi 
sank  deeply  into  the  unctuous  black  soil,  which  resembled 
%  ietty  tallow  rather  than  earth,  and  his  progress  was  slov 


THB  HAUNTED  BHANTT.  475 

ftnd  toilsome.  The  sky  became  more  and  more  obscured : 
the  sun  faded  to  a  ghastly  moon,  then  to  a  white  blotch  in 
the  gray  vault,  and  finally  retired  in  disgust.  Indeed,  there 
was  nothing  in  the  landscape  worth  his  contemplation. 
Dead  flats  of  black,  bristling  with  short  corn-stalks,  flats  of 
brown  grass,  a  brown  belt  of  low  woods  in  the  distance, — 
that  was  all  the  horizon  inclosed :  no  embossed  bowl,  with 
its  rim  of  sculptured  hills,  its  re  and  of  colored  pictures, 
but  a  flat  earthen  pie-dish,  over  which  the  sky  fell  lil;e  a 
pewter  cover. 

After  riding  for  an  hour  or  two  over  the  desolate  level, 
I  descended  through  rattling  oaks  to  the  bed  of  a  stream, 
and  then  ascended  through  rattling  oaks  to  the  prairie 
beyond.  Here,  however,  I  took  the  wrong  road,  and 
found  myself,  some  three  miles  farther,  at  a  farm-house, 
where  it  terminated.  "  You  kin  go  out  over  the  perairah 
yander,'*  said  the  farmer,  dropping  his  maul  beside  a  rail 
he  had  just  split  ofi", — "  there's  a  plain  trail  from  Sykes's 
that'll  bring  you  onto  the  road  not  fur  from  Sugar  Crick." 
With  which  knowledge  I  plucked  up  heart  and  rode  on. 

What  with  the  windings  and  turnings  of  the  varions 
cart-tracks,  the  family  resemblance  in  the  groves  of  oak 
and  hickory,  and  the  heavy,  uniform  gray  of  the  sky,  1 
presently  lost  my  compass-needle, — that  natural  instinct 
of  direction,  on  which  I  had  learned  to  rely.  East,  west, 
north,  south, — all  were  alike,  and  the  very  doubt  paralyzed 
the  faculty.  The  growing  darkness  of  the  sky,  the  watery 
moaning  of  the  wind,  betokened  night  and  storm ;  but  I 
pressed  on,  bap-hazard,  determined,  at  least,  to  reach  on< 
of  the  incipient  villages  on  the  Bloomington  road. 


476  AT   HOMB  AND   ABROAD. 

In  an  hour  more,  I  found  myself  on  the  brink  of  anothei 
winding  hollow,  threaded  by  a  broad,  shallow  stream.  On 
the  opposite  side,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  above,  stood  a  rough 
shanty,  at  the  foot  of  the  rise  which  led  to  the  prairie, 
After  fording  the  stream,  however,  I  found  that  the  trail 
I  had  followed  continued  forward  in  the  same  direction, 
leaving  this  rude  settlement  on  the  left.  On  the  opposite 
side  of  the  hollow,  the  prairie  again  stretched  before  me, 
dark  and  flat,  and  destitute  of  any  sign  of  habitation.  1 
could  scarcely  distinguish  the  trail  any  longer ;  in  half  an 
hour,  I  knew,  I  should  be  swallowed  up  in  a  gulf  of  impe- 
netrable darkness;  and  there  was  evidently  no  choice  left 
me  but  to  return  to  the  lonely  shanty,  and  there  seek  shel- 
ter for  the  night. 

To  be  thwarted  in  one's  plans,  even  by  wind  or  weather, 
is  always  vexatious ;  but  in  this  case,  the  prospect  of  spend- 
mg  a  night  in  such  a  dismal  corner  of  the  world  was  espe- 
cially disagi-eeable.  I  am — or  at  least  I  consider  myself — 
a  thoroughly  matter-of-fact  man,  and  my  first  thought,  I 
am  not  ashamed  to  confess,  was  of  oysters.  Visions  of  a 
favoi'ite  saloon,  and  many  a  pleasant  supper  with  Dunham 
and  Beeson,  (my  partners,)  all  at  once  popped  into  my 
mind,  as  I  turned  back  over  the  brow  of  the  hollow  and 
urged  Peck  down  its  rough  slope.  "  Well,"  thought  I,  at 
last,  "  this  will  be  one  more  story  for  our  next  meeting, 
Who  knows  what  originals  I  may  not  find,  even  in  a  soli 
tary  settler's  shanty  ?" 

I  could  discover  no  trail,  and  the  darkness  thickened 
rapidly  while  I  picked  my  way  across  dry  gullies,  formed 
bj  the  dnunage  of  the  prairie  above,  rotten  tree-truuka 


THE  HAUNTED  SHANTY.  47t 

Stumps,  and  spots  of  thicket.  As  I  approached  the  shanty 
a  faint  gleam  through  one  of  its  two  small  windows  showed 
that  it  was  inhabited.  In  the  rear,  a  space  of  a  qnartei 
of  an  acre,  inclosed  by  a  huge  worm-fence,  was  evidently 
the  vegetable-patch,  at  one  coiner  of  which  a  small  stable, 
oofed  and  buttressed  with  corn-fodder,  leaned  against  the 
nill.  I  drew  rein  in  front  of  the  building,  and  was  about 
to  hail  its  inmates,  when  I  observed  the  figure  of  a  man 
issue  from  the  stable.  Even  in  the  gloom,  there  was  some- 
thing forlorn  and  dispiriting  in  his  walk.  He  approached 
with  a  slow,  dragging  step,  apparently  unaware  of  my 
presence. 

"  Good  evening,  friend !"  I  said. 

He  stopped,  stood  still  for  half  a  minute,  and  finally 
responded, — 

"Who  air  you ?'» 

The  tone  of  his  voice,  querulous  and  lamenting,  rather 
implied,  "  Why  don't  you  let  me  alone  ?" 

"  I  am  a  traveller,"  I  answered,  "  bound  from  Peoria  to 
Bloomington,  and  have  lost  my  way.  It  is  dark,  as  you 
know,  and  likely  to  rain,  and  I  don't  see  how  I  can  get  any 
farther  to-night." 

Another  pause.  Then  he  said,  slowly,  as  if  speaking  to 
himself — 

"  There  a'n't  no  other  place  nearer  'n  four  or  five  mile." 

"  Then  I  hope  you  will  let  me  stay  here." 

The  answer,  to  my  surprise,  was  a  deep  sigh. 

"  I  am  used  to  roughing  it,"  I  urged ;  "  and  besides,  I 
will  pay  for  any  trouble  I  may  give  you." 

**  It  a'n't  «Aa«,"  said  he  ;  then  added,  hesitatingly—'*  feot 


478  AT   HOME  AND   ABUOAD. 

Is,  we  're  lonesome  people  here — don't  often  see  strangers  j 
yit  I  s'pose  you  can't  go  no  furder ; — well,  I'll  talk  to  my 
wife." 

Therewith  he  entered  the  shanty,  leaving  me  a  little  dis. 
concerted  with  so  uncertain,  not  to  say  suspicious,  a  recep- 
tion. I  heard  the  sound  of  voices — one  of  them  unmistak- 
able in  its  nasal  shrillness — ^in  what  seemed  to  be  a  harsh 
debate,  and  distinguished  the  words,  "  I  didn't  bring  it  on," 
followed  with,  "  Tell  him,  then,  if  you  like,  and  let  him 
stay" — which  seemed  to  settle  the  matter.  The  door  pre- 
sently opened,  and  the  man  said — 

"  I  guess  we'll  have  t'accommodate  you.  Give  me  your 
things,  an'  then  I'll  put  your  horse  up." 

I  unstrapped  my  valise,  took  off  the  saddle,  and,  having 
seen  Peck  to  his  fodder-tent,  where  I  left  him  with  some 
ears  of  corn  in  an  old  basket,  returned  to  the  shanty.  It 
was  a  rude  specimen  of  the  article — a  single  room  of  some 
thirty  by  fifteen  feet,  with  a  large  fireplace  of  sticks  and 
clay  at  one  end,  while  a  half-partition  of  unplaned  planks  set 
on  end  formed  a  sort  of  recess  for  the  bed  at  the  other.  A 
good  fire  on  the  hearth,  however,  made  it  seem  tolerably 
cheerful,  contrasted  with  the  dismal  gloom  outside.  The 
furniture  consisted  of  a  table,  two  or  three  chairs,  a  broad 
bench,  and  a  kitchen-dresser  of  boards.  Some  golden  ears 
of  seed-corn,  a  few  sides  of  bacon,  and  ropes  of  onions  hung 
from  the  rafters. 

A  woman  in  a  blue  calico  gown,  with  a  tin  coffee-pot  in 
one  hand  and  a  stick  in  the  other,  was  raking  out  the  red 
coals  from  under  the  burning  logs.  At  my  salutation,  shf 
partly  turned,  looked  hard  at  me,  nodded,  and  muttered 


THB  HAUNTBaj   SHANTY.  479 

some  mandible  words.  Then,  having  levelled  the  coali 
properly,  she  put  down  the  coffee-pot,  and,  facing  about, 
exclaimed — "  Jimmy,  git  off  that  cheer  1" 

Though  this  phrase,  short  and  snappish  enough,  was  not 
worded  as  an  invitation  for  me  to  sit  down,  I  accepted  it  ai 
uch,  and  took  the  chair  which  a  lean  boy  of  some  nine  or 
ten  years  old  had  hurriedly  vacated.  In  such  cases,  I  had 
learned  by  experience,  it  is  not  best  to  be  too  forward : 
wait  quietly,  and  allow  the  unwilling  hosts  time  to  get 
accustomed  to  your  presence.  I  inspected  the  family  for  a 
while,  in  silence.  The  spare,  bony  form  of  the  woman,  hei 
deep-set  gray  eyes,  and  the  long,  thin  nose,  which  seemed 
to  be  merely  a  scabbard  for  her  sharp-edged  voice,  gave  me 
hev  character  at  the  first  glance.  As  for  the  man,  he  was 
worn  by  some  constant  fret  or  worry,  rather  than  naturally 
spare.  His  complexion  was  sallow,  his  face  honest,  every 
line  of  it,  though  the  expression  was  dejected,  and  there 
was  a  helpless  patience  in  his  voice  and  movements,  which 
I  have  often  seen  in  women,  but  never  before  in  a  man. 
"Henpecked  in  the  first  degree,"  was  the  verdict  I  gave, 
without  leaving  my  seat.  The  silence,  shyness,  and  puny 
appearance  of  the  boy  might  be  accounted  for  by  the  lone- 
liness of  his  life,  and  the  usual  "  shakes" ;  but  there  was  a 
wild,  frightened  look  in  his  eye,  a  nervous  restlessness  about 
his  limbs,  which  excited  my  curiosity.  I  am  no  believer  in 
those  fi-eaks  of  fancy  called  "  presentiments,''  biit  I  certainly 
felt  that  there  was  something  unpleasant,  perhaps  painful, 
in  the  private  relations  of  the  family. 

Meanwhile,  the  supper  gradually  took  shape.     The  coffea 
was  boiled,  (far  too  much,  for  my  taste,)  bacon  fried,  pota 


480  AT  HOMB  AN°hL    1  UBOAD. 

toes  roasted,  and  certain  lumps  of  dough  transformed  iiit« 
farinaceous  grape-shot,  called  "  biscuits."  Dishes  of  blue 
queens  ware,  knives  and  forks,  oups  and  saucers  of  variooa 
patterns,  and  a  bowl  of  molasses  were  placed  upon  the  table ; 
and  finally  the  woman  said,  speaking  to,  though  not  looking 
at,  me — 

"  I  s'pose  you  ha'n't  had  your  supper." 

I  accepted  the  invitation  with  a  simple  "  No,"  and  ate 
enough  of  the  rude  fare  (for  I  was  really  hungry)  to  satisfy 
my  hosts  that  I  was  not  proud.  I  attempted  no  conversa- 
tion, knowing  that  such  people  never  talk  when  they  eat, 
until  the  meal  was  over,  and  the  man,  who  gladly  took  one 
of  my  cigars,  was  seated  comfortably  before  the  fire.  I 
then  related  my  story,  told  my  name  and  business,  and  by 
degrees  established  a  mild  flow  of  conversation.  The 
woman,  as  she  washed  the  dishes  and  cleared  up  things  for 
the  night,  listened  to  us,  and  now  and  then  made  a  remark 
to  the  coffee-pot  or  frying-pan,  evidently  intended  for  our 
ears.  Some  things  which  she  said  must  have  had  a  mean- 
ing hidden  from  me,  for  I  could  see  that  the  man  winced, 
and  at  last  he  ventured  to  say — 

"  Mary  Ann,  what's  the  use  in  talkin'  about  it  ?" 

"  Do  as  you  like,"  she  snapped  back ;  "  only  I  a'n't  a-goin' 
to  be  blamed  for  your  doin's.  The  stranger  '11  find  out, 
goon  enough." 

"You  find  this  life  rather  lonely,  I  should  think,"  I 
remarked,  with  a  view  of  giving  the  conversation  a  differ, 
ent  turn. 

"  Lonely  •"  she  repeated,  jerking  out  a  fragment  of  mah- 
lAons  laughter.    "  It's  lonely  enough  in  the  daytime,  Good 


THX  HAITNTRD  8HAKTT.  481 

Dess  knows;  but  you'll  have  your  fill  o*  company  afore 
momin'." 

With  that,  she  threw  a  defiant  glance  at  her  husband. 

**  Fact  is,"  said  he,  shrinking  from  her  eye,  "  we're  sort 
y  troubled  with  noises  at  night.    P'raps  you'll  be  skeered 
but  it's  no  more  'n  noise — onpleasant,  but  never  hurt 
nothin'." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  this  shanty  is  haunted  ?"  I  asked. 

**  Well — ^yes :  some  folks  'd  call  it  so.  There  is  noises  an' 
things  goin'  on,  but  you  can't  see  nobody." 

"  Oh,  if  that  is  all,"  said  I,  "  you  need  not  be  concerned 
on  my  account.  Nothing  is  so  strange,  but  the  cause  of  it 
can  be  discovered." 

Again  the  man  heaved  a  deep  agh.  The  woman  said,  in 
rather  a  milder  tone — 

"  What's  the  good  o'  knowin*  what  makes  it,  when  you 
can't  stop  it  ?" 

As  I  was  neither  sleepy  nor  fetigued,  this  information  was 
rather  welcome  than  otherwise.  I  had  full  confidence  in 
my  own  courage  ;  and  if  anything  should  happen,  it  would 
make  a  capital  story  for  my  first  New  York  supper.  I  saw 
there  was  but  one  bed,  and  a  small  straw  mattress  on  the 
floor  beside  it  for  the  boy,  and  therefore  declared  that  I 
should  sleep  on  the  bench,  wrapped  in  my  cloak.  Neither 
objected  to  this,  and  they  presently  retired.  I  determined, 
however,  to  keep  awake  as  long  as  possible.  I  threw  a 
fresh  log  on  the  fire,  lit  another  cigar,  made  a  few  entries 
in  my  note-book,  and  finally  took  the  "Iron  Mask"  of 
Dumas  from  my  valise,  and  tried  to  read  by  the  wavering 
flashes  of  the  fire. 


48S  AT  BOMB  AKD  ABROAD. 

In  this  manner  another  hour  passed  away.  The  deep 
breathing — ^not  to  say  snoring — ^from  the  recess  indicated 
that  my  hosts  were  sound  asleep,  and  the  monotonous 
whistle  of  the  wind  around  the  shanty  began  to  exercise  a 
oiling  influence  on  my  own  senses.  Wrapping  myself  in 
my  cloak,  with  my  valise  for  a  pillow,  I  stretched  myself 
out  on  the  bench,  and  strove  to  keep  my  mind  occupied 
with  conjectures  concerning  the  sleeping  family.  Further- 
more, I  recalled  all  the  stories  of  ghosts  and  haunted  houses 
which  I  had  ever  heard,  constructed  explanations  for  sucl 
as  were  still  unsolved,  and,  so  far  from  feeling  any  alarm, 
desired  nothing  so  much  as  that  the  supernatural  perform- 
ances might  commence. 

My  thoughts,  however,  became  gradually  less  and  less 
coherent,  and  I  was  just  sliding  over  the  verge  of  slumber, 
when  a  faint  sound  in  the  distance  caught  my  ear.  I 
listened  intently:  certainly  there  was  a  far-off,  indistinct 
sonnd,  different  from  the  dull,  continuous  sweep  of  the  wind. 
I  rose  on  the  bench,  fuUy  awake,  yet  not  excited,  for  my 
first  thought  was  that  other  travellers  might  be  lost  or 
belated.  By  this  time  the  sound  was  quite  distinct,  and, 
to  my  great  surprise,  appeared  to  proceed  from  a  drum, 
rapidly  beaten.  I  looked  at  my  watch :  it  was  half-past  ten. 
Who  could  be  out  on  the  lonely  prairie  with  a  drum,  at  that 
time  of  night  ?  There  must  have  been  some  military  festi- 
val, some  political  caucus,  some  celebration  of  the  Sons  of 
Malta,  or  jubilation  of  the  Society  of  the  Thousand  and 
One,  and  a  few  of  the  scattered  membei'S  were  enlivening 
iheir  dark  ride  homewards.  While  I  was  busy  with  these 
conjectures,  the  sound  advanced  nearer  and  nearer — and| 


THB   HAUNTED   SHANTY.  469 

wb&i  was  very  singular,  without  the  least  pause  or  Tari»' 
tion — one  steady,  regular  roll,  ringing  deep  and  clear 
through  the  night. 

The  shanty  stood  at  a  point  where  the  stream,  leaving  iti 
general  southwestern  course,  bent  at  a  sharp  angle  to  the 
southeast,  and  faced  very  nearly  in  the  latter  direction.  Am 
the  sound  of  the  drum  came  from  the  east,  it  seemed  the 
more  probable  that  it  was  caused  by  some  person  on  the 
road  which  crossed  the  creek  a  quarter  of  a  mile  below. 
Yet,  on  approaching  nearer,  it  made  directly  for  the  shanty, 
moving,  evidently,  much  more  rapidly  than  a  person  could 
walk.  It  then  flashed  upon  my  mind  that  this  was  the 
noise  T  was  to  hear,  this  the  company  I  was  to  expect ! 
Louder  and  louder,  deep,  strong,  and  reverberating,  roll- 
ing as  if  for  a  battle-charge,  it  came  on :  it  was  now  but  a 
hundred  yards  distant — now  but  fifty — ten — -just  ontside 
the  rough  clapboard-wall — ^but,  while  I  had  half  risen  to 
open  the  door,  it  passed  directly  through  the  wall  and 
sounded  at  my  very  ears,  inside  the  shanty. 

The  logs  burned  brightly  on  the  hearth :  every  object  in 
the  room  could  be  seen  more  or  less  distinctly:  nothing 
was  out  of  its  place,  nothing  disturbed,  yet  the  rafters 
almost  shook  under  the  roll  of  an  invisible  drum,  beaten  by 
invisible  hands  I  The  sleepers  tossed  restlessly,  and  a  deep 
groan,  as  if  in  semi-dream,  came  from  the  man.  Utterly 
confounded  as  I  was,  my  sensations  were  not  those  of  ter 
ror.  Each  moment  I  doubted  my  senses,  and  each  moment 
the  terrific  sound  convinced  me  anew.  I  do  not  know  how 
long  I  sat  thus  in  shenr,  stu]>id  amazement.  It  may  have 
been  one  minute,  or  fifteen,  before  the  drum,  passing  OTei 


484  AT   HOME    A.^O   AB!30AD. 

my  head,  through  the  boards  again,  commenced  a  do^ 
march  around  the  shanty.  When  it  had  finished  the  first, 
and  was  about  commencing  the  second  round,  I  shook  ofl 
my  stupor,  and  determined  to  probe  the  mystery.  Open- 
ng  the  door,  I  advanced  in  an  opposite  direction  to  meet 
t.  Again  the  sound  passed  close  beside  my  head,  but  I 
could  see  nothing,  touch  nothing.  Again  it  entered  the 
shanty,  and  I  followed.  I  stirred  up  the  fire,  casting  a 
strong  illumination  into  the  darkest  corners :  I  thrust  my 
hand  into  the  very  heart  of  the  sound,  I  struck  through  it 
in  all  directions  with  a  stick — still  I  saw  nothing,  touched 
nothing. 

Of  course,  I  do  not  expect  to  be  believed  by  half  my 
readers — nor  can  I  blame  them  for  their  incredulity.  So 
astounding  is  the  circumstance,  even  yet,  to  myself,  that  I 
should  doubt  its  reality,  were  it  not  therefore  necessary,  for 
the  same  reason,  to  doubt  every  event  of  my  life. 

At  length  the  sound  moved  away  in  the  direction  whence 
it  came,  becoming  gradually  fainter  and  fainter  until  it  died 
in  the  distance.  But  immediately  afterwards,  fiom  the 
«ame  quarter,  came  a  thin,  sharp  blast  of  wind— or  what 
seemed  to  be  such.  If  one  could  imagine  a  swift,  intense 
stream  of  air,  no  thicker  than  a  telegraph-wire,  producing 
a  keen,  whistling  rush  in  its  passage,  he  would  understand 
the  impression  made  upon  my  mind.  This  wind,  or  sound, 
Ot  whatever  it  was,  seemed  to  strike  an  invisible  target  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  and  thereupon  ensued  a  new  and 
worse  confusion.  Sounds  as  of  huge  planks  lifted  at  one 
end  and  then  allowed  to  fall,  slamming  upon  the  floor,  hard, 
wooden  claps,  crashes,  and  noises  of  splitting  and  snapping 


THX  TLLUynSD  SHANTT.  48A 

filled  the  shanty.  The  rough  boards  of  the  floor  jarred  and 
trembled,  and  the  table  and  chairs  were  jolted  oflf  theif 
feet.  Instinctively,  I  jerked  away  my  legs,  whenever  the 
invisible  planks  fell  too  near  them. 

It  never  came  into  my  mind  to  charge  the  family  with 
being  the  authors  of  these  phenomena :  their  care  and  dis- 
tress were  too  evident.  There  was  cert^nly  no  other 
human  being  but  myself  in  or  near  the  shanty.  My  senses 
of  sight  and  touch  availed  me  nothing,  and  I  confined  my 
attention,  at  last,  to  simply  noting  the  manifestations,  with- 
out attempting  to  explain  them.  I  began  to  experience  a 
feeling,  not  of  terror,  but  of  disturbing  uncertainty.  The 
solid  ground  was  taken  from  beneath  my  feet. 

Still  the  man  and  his  wife  groaned  and  muttered,  as  if  in 
a  nightmare  sleep,  and  the  boy  tossed  restlessly  on  his  low 
bed.  I  would  not  disturb  them,  since,  by  their  own  con- 
fession, they  were  accustomed  to  the  visitation.  Besides, 
it  would  not  assist  me,  and,  so  long  as  there  was  no  danger 
of  personal  injury,  I  preferred  to  wateh  alone.  I  recalled, 
however,  the  woman's  remarks,  remembering  the  myste- 
rious blame  she  had  thrown  upon  her  husband,  and  felt  cer- 
tain that  she  had  adopted  some  explanation  of  the  noises, 
at  his  expense. 

As  the  confusion  continued,  with  more  or  less  violence, 
sometimes  pausing  for  a  few  minutes,  to  begin  again  with 
renewed  force,  I  felt  an  increasing  impression  of  somebody 
else  being  present.  Outside  the  shanty  this  feeling  ceased, 
but  every  time  I  opened  the  door  I  fully  expected  to  see 
some  one  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  Yet,  looking 
through  the  little  windows,  when  the  noises  were  at  thdi 


486  AT  HOiOC  AND  ABBOAD. 

loudest,  I  could  discover  nothing.  Two  hoars  had  passed 
away  since  I  first  heard  the  drum-beat,  and  I  found  mysel. 
at  last  completely  wearied  with  my  fruitless  exertions  and 
the  unusual  excitement.  By  this  time  the  disturbances  had 
become  faint,  with  more  frequent  pauses.  All  at  once,  1 
heard  a  long,  weary  sigh,  so  near  me  that  it  could  not  have 
proceeded  from  the  sleepers.  A  weak  moan,  expressive  of 
utter  wretchedness,  followed,  and  then  came  the  words,  in 
a  woman's  voice — came  I  know  not  whence,  for  they  seemed 
to  be  uttered  close  beside  me,  and  yet  far,  far  away — "How 
great  is  my  trouble  I  How  long  shall  I  suffer  ?  I  was 
married,  in  the  sight  of  God,  to  Eber  Nicholson.  Have 
m«rcy,  O  Lord,  and  give  him  to  me,  or  release  me  from 
him  I" 

These  were  the  words,  not  spoken,  but  rather  moaned 
forth  in  a  slow,  monotonous  wail  of  utter  helplessness  and 
broken-heartedness.  I  have  heard  human  grief  expressed 
in  many  forms,  but  I  never  heard  or  imagined  anything  so 
desolate,  so  surcharged  with  the  despair  of  an  eternal  woe. 
It  was,  indeed,  too  hopeless  for  sympathy.  It  was  the 
utterance  of  a  sorrow  which  removed  its  possessor  into 
some  dark,  lonely  world  girdled  with  iron  walls,  against 
which  every  throb  of  a  helping  or  consoling  heart  would 
beat  in  vain  for  admittance.  So  far  from  being  moved  or 
softened,  the  words  left  upon  me  an  impression  of  stolid 
Apathy.  When  they  had  ceased,  I  heard  another  s^'gh — and 
some  time  afterwards,  far-off,  retreating  forlornly  through 
the  eastern  darkness,  the  wailing  repetition —  "  I  was  mar 
ried,  in  the  sight  of  God,  to  Eber  Nicholson.  Have  mercy 
OLordP 


THB  HAUNTBD  SHANTY.  48^ 

This  was  the  last  of  those  midnight  marvels.  Nothiug 
further  disturbed  the  night  except  the  steady  sound  of  the 
wind.  The  more  I  thought  of  what  I  had  heard,  the  more 
I  waa  convinced  that  the  phenomena  were  connected,  iu 
some  way,  with  the  history  of  my  host.  I  had  heard  his 
wife  call  him  *'  Ebe,''  and  did  not  doubt  that  he  was  the 
Eber  Nicholson  who,  for  some  mysterious  crime,  was 
haunted  by  the  reproachful  ghost.  Could  murder,  or  worse 
than  murder,  lurk  behind  these  visitations  ?  It  was  use* 
less  to  conjecture  ;  yet,  before  giving  myself  up  to  sleep,  I 
determined  to  know  everything  that  could  be  known,  before 
leaving  the  shanty. 

My  rest  was  disturbed:  my  hip-bones  pressed  unplea- 
santly on  the  hard  bench;  and  every  now  and  then  I 
awoke  with  a  start,  hearing  the  same  despairing  voice  in 
my  dreams.  The  place  was  always  quiet,  nevertheless, — 
the  disturbances  having  ceased,  as  nearly  as  I  could  judge, 
about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Finally,  from  sheer 
weariness,  I  fell  into  a  deep  slumber,  which  lasted  until 
daylight.  The  sound  of  pans  and  kettles  aroused  me. 
The  woman,  in  her  lank  blue  gown,  was  bending  over  the 
fire ;  the  man  and  boy  had  already  gone  out.  As  I  rose,  rub- 
bing my  eyes  and  shaking  myself,  to  find  out  exactly  where 
and  who  I  was,  the  woman  straightened  herself  and  looked 
at  me  with  a  keen,  questioning  gaze,  but  said  nothing, 
"  I  must  have  been  very  sound  asleep,"  said  L 
**  There's  no  sound  sleepin'  here.  Don't  tell  me  that.** 
"Well,"  I  answered,  "  your  shanty  is  rather  noisy;  but, 
•8  I  am  neither  scared  nor  hurt,  there's  no  harm  done, 
But  have  you  never  found  out  what  occasions  the  noise  ?" 


488  AT  HOMB  AND  ABROAD. 

Her  reply  was  a  toss  of  the  head  and  a  pecnliai  snorting 
Interjection,  "  Hngh  I"  (impossible  to  be  represented  by 
letters,)  "  it's  all  her  doin'." 

"  But  who  is  she  f» 

"  You'd  better  ask  A»m.»' 

Seeing  there  was  nothing  to  be  got  out  of  her,  I  went 
down  to  the  stream,  washed  my  face,  dried  it  with  my 
pocket-handkerchief,  and  then  looked  after  Peek.  He 
gave  a  shrill  whinny  of  recognition,  and,  I  thought,  seemed 
to  be  a  little  restless.  A  fresh  feed  of  corn  was  in  the  old 
basket,  and  presently  the  man  came  into  the  stable  with  a 
bunch  of  hay,  and  commenced  rubbing  off  the  marks  of 
Peck's  oozy  couch  which  were  left  on  his  flanks.  As  we 
went  back  to  the  shanty  I  noticed  that  he  eyed  me  fur- 
tively, without  daring  to  look*  me  full  in  the  face.  As  I 
was  apparently  none  the  worse  for  the  night's  experiences, 
he  rallied  at  last,  and  ventured  to  talk  at^  as  well  as  to  me. 

By  this  time,  breakfast,  which  was  a  repetition  of  sup- 
per, was  ready,  and  we  sat  down  to  the  table.  During  the 
meal,  it  occurred  to  me  to  make  an  experimental  remark. 
Turning  suddenly  to  the  man,  I  asked, — 

"  Is  your  name  Eber  Nicholson  ?" 

"  There  I"  exclaimed  the  woman,  "  I  knowed  he'd  heerd 
itl" 

He,  however,  flushing  a  moment,  and  then  becoming 
more  sallow  than  ever,  nodded  first,  and  then — as  if  that 
were  not  sufficient — *dded,  "  Yes,  that's  my  name.'* 

"  Where  did  you  move  from  ?"  I  continued,  falling  back 
on  the  first  plan  I  had  formed  in  my  mind. 

**  The  Western  Reserve,  not  fur  from  Hudson.** 


THB   HAOxSTBD   SHANTT.  486 

I  turned  the  conversation  on  the  comparative  advantages 
of  Ohio  and  Illinois,  on  farming,  the  price  of  land,  etc., 
carefully  avoiding  the  dangerous  subject,  and  by  the  time 
breakfast  was  over  had  arranged,  that,  for  a  consideration, 
he  should  accompany  me  as  far  as  the  Bloomington  road, 
some  five  miles  distant. 

While  he  went  out  to  catch  an  old  horse,  ranging  loose 
in  the  creek-bottom,  I  saddled  Peck,  strapped  on  my  valise, 
and  made  myself  ready  for  the  journey.  The  feeling  of 
two  silver  half-dollars  in  her  hard  palm  melted  down  the 
woman's  aggressive  mood,  and  she  said,  with  a  voice  the 
edge  whereof  was  mightily  blunted, — 

"  Thankee !  it's  too  much  for  sich  as  you  had.*' 

"  It's  the  best  you  can  give,"  I  replied. 

"  That's  so !''  said  she,  jerking  my  hand  up  and  down 
with  a  pumping  movement,  as  I  took  leave. 

I  felt  a  sense  of  relief  when  we  had  climbed  the  rise  and 
had  the  open  prairie  again  before  us.  The  sky  was  over- 
cast and  the  wind  strong,  but  some  rain  had  fallen  during 
the  night,  and  the  clouds  had  lifted  themselves  again.  The 
air  was  fresh  and  damp,  but  not  chill.  We  rode  slowly, 
of  necessity,  for  the  mud  was  deeper  than  ever. 

I  deliberated  what  course  I  should  take,  in  order  to  draw 
from  my  guide  the  explanation  of  the  nightly  noises.  Hia 
evident  shi  inking,  whenever  his  wife  referred  to  the  sub- 
ject, convinced  me  that  a  gradual  approach  would  render 
him  ahy  and  uneasy ;  and,  on  the  whole,  it  seemed  best  to 
surprise  him  by  a  sudden  assault.  Let  me  strike  to  th« 
heart  of  the  secret  at  once, — I  tlio-ight, — and  the  detaili 
will  come  of  themselves. 


400  AT  HOMB  AND  ABBOAO. 

While  I  was  thus  reflecting,  he  rode  quietly  by  my  sida 
Half  turning  in  the  saddle,  I  looked  steadily  at  his  face,  and 
said,  in  an  earnest  voice, — 

"  Eber  Nicholson,  who  was  it  to  whom  you  were  mar 
ried  in  the  sight  of  God  ?'' 

Ho  started  as  if  struck,  looked  at  mp  imploringly,  turned 
awaj  his  eyes,  then  looked  back,  became  very  pale,  and 
finally  said,  in  a  broken,  hesitating  voice,  as  if  the  word* 
were  forced  from  him  against  his  will, — 

"  Her  name  is  Rachel  Emmons." 

"  Why  did  you  murder  her  ?"  I  asked,  in  a  still  sterner 
tone. 

In  an  instant  his  face  burned  scarlet.  He  reined  up  his 
horse  with  a  violent  pull,  straightened  his  shoulders  so  that 
he  appeared  six  inches  taller,  looked  steadily  at  me  with  a 
strange,  mixed  expression  of  anger  and  astonishment,  and 
cried  out, — 

"  Murder  her?     TFAy,  she^a  livin?  now/" 

My  surprise  at  the  answer  was  scarcely  less  great  than 
his  at  the  question. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  she's  not  dead  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  no  1"  said  he,  recovering  from  his  sudden  excite- 
ment, "  she's  not  dead,  or  she  wouldn't  keep  on  troublin* 
me.     She's  been  livin'  in  Toledo,  these  ten  year." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  friend,"  said  I ;  "  but  I  don*t 
know  what  to  think  of  what  I  heard  last  night,  and  I 
suppose  I  have  the  old  notion  in  my  head  that  all  ghosts 
are  of  persons  who  have  been  murdered." 

"  Oh,  if  I  had  killed  her,"  he  groaned,  "  I'd  'a'  been  hung 
long  ago,  an'  there  'd  'a'  been  an  end  of  it." 


THB  HAnNTBD  SHASTT.  491 

"  Tell  me  the  whole  story,"  said  I.  "  It's  hardly  3kely 
that  I  can  help  you,  but  I  can  understand  how  you  musi 
be  troubled,  and  I'm  sure  I  pity  you  from  my  heart." 

I  think  he  felt  relieved  at  my  proposal, — glad,  perhaps, 
afler  long  silence,  to  confide  to  another  man  the  secret  of 
his  lonely,  wretched  life. 

"  After  what  you've  heerd,"  said  he,  "  there's  nothm" 
that  I  don't  care  to  tell.  I've  been  siniul,  no  doubt, — ^but 
God  knows,  there  never  was  a  man  worse  punished. 

"  I  told  you,"  he  continued,  after  a  pause,  "  that  I  come 
from  the  Western  Reserve.  My  father  was  a  middlin'  well- 
to-do  farmer, — not  rich,  nor  yit  exactly  poor.  He's  dead 
now.  He  was  always  a  savin'  man, — looked  after  money 
a  leetle  too  sharp,  I've  often  thought  sence :  howsever,  tisn't 
my  place  to  judge  him.  Well,  I  was  brought  up  on  the 
farm,  to  hard  work,  like  the  other  boys.  Rachel  Emmons, 
— she's  the  same  woman  that  haunts  me,  yoa  understand, 
— she  was  the  girl  o'  one  of  our  neighbors,  an'  poor  enough 
he  was.  His  wife  was  always  sickly-like, — an'  you  know 
it  takes  a  woman  as  well  as  a  man  to  git  rich  fannin*.  So 
they  were  always  scrimped,  but  that  didn't  hinder  Rachel 
from  bein'  one  o'  the  likeliest  gals  round.  We  went  to  the 
same  school  in  the  winter,  her  an'  me,  ('tisn't  much  school- 
in'  I  ever  got,  though,)  an'  I  had  a  sort  o'  nateral  hankerin' 
after  her,  as  fur  back  as  I  can  remember.  She  was  differ- 
ent lookin'  then  from  what  she  is  now, — an'  me,  too,  for 
that  matter. 

"  Well,  you  know  how  boys  an'  gals  somehow  git  tc 
likin'  each  other  afore  they  know  it.  Me  an'  Rachel  wa« 
more  an'  more  together,  the  more  we  growed  up,  only  mor€ 


49S  AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

seoret-like ;  so  by  the  time  I  was  twenty  an'  she  was  nine 
teen,  we  was  promised  to  one  another  as  true  as  could  be. 
I  didn't  keep  company  with  her,  though — leastways,  not 
eg'lar :  I  was  afeard  my  father  »d  find  it  out,  an'  I  knowed 
what  fie  'd  say  to  it.  He  kep'  givin'  me  hints  about  Mary 
Ann  Jones — that  was  my  wife's  maiden  name.  Her  father 
had  two  hundred  acres  an'  money  out  at  interest,  an'  only 
three  children.  He'd  had  ten,  but  seven  of  'em  died.  I 
had  nothin'  agin  Mary  Ann,  but  I  never  thought  of  her  that 
way,  like  I  did  towards  Rachel. 

"  Well,  things  kep'  runnin'  on ;  I  was  a  good  deal  wor- 
lied  about  it,  but  a  young  feller,  you  know,  don't  look  fui 
ahead,  an'  so  I  got  along.  One  night,  howsever — ^'t  was 
jist  about  as  dark  as  last  night  was — ^I'd  been  to  the  store 
at  the  Corners,  for  a  jug  o'  molasses.  Rachel  was  there, 
gittin'  a  quarter  of  a  pound  o'  tea,  I  think  it  was,  an'  some 
sewin'-thread.  I  went  out  a  little  while  after  her,  an'  fol- 
lered  as  fast  as  I  could,  for  we  had  the  same  road  nigh  to 
home. 

"  It  weren't  long  afore  I  overtook  her.  'Twas  mighty 
dark,  as  I  was  sayin',  an'  so  I  hooked  her  arm  into  mine, 
an'  we  went  on  comfortable  together,  talkin'  about  how  we 
jist  suited  each  other,  like  we  was  cut  out  o'  purpose,  an 
how  long  we'd  have  to  wait,  an'  what  folks  'd  say.  O 
Lord  I  don't  I  remember  every  word  o'  tliat  night  ?  Well, 
we  got  quite  tender-like  when  we  come  t'  Old  Emmons's 
gate,  an'  I  up  ian'  giv'  her  a  hug  and  a  lot  o'  kisses,  to  make 
up  for  lost  time.  Then  she  went  into  the  house,  an'  I 
turned  for  home  ;  but  I  liadn't  gone  ten  steps  afore  1  come 
agio  somebody  stau'in'  in  the  middle  o'  the  road.     *•  Hullo  1' 


THE   HAUNTED   SHANTT.  408 

Bays  I.  The  next  thing  he  had  a  holt  o'  nr  y  coat-collar  an' 
shuck  me  like  a  tarrier-dog  shakes  a  rat.  I  kiiowed  who  it 
was  afore  he  spoke  ;  an'  I  couldn't  'a'  been  more  skeered, 
if  the  life  had  all  gone  out  o'  me.  He'd  been  down  to  the 
tavern  to  see  a  drover,  an'  comin  home  he'd  follered  behind 
us  all  the  way,  hearin'  every  word  we  said. 

"  I  don't  like  to  think  o'  the  words  he  used  that  night. 
He  was  a  professin'  member,  an'  yit  he  swore  the  awfullest 
I  ever  heerd." — Here  the  man  involuntarily  raised  his  hands 
to  his  ears,  as  if  to  stop  them  against  even  the  memory  of 
his  father's  curses. — "  I  expected  every  minute  he'd  'a* 
struck  me  down.  I've  wished,  sence,  he  had:  I  don*t 
think  I  could  'a'  stood  that.  Howsever,  he  dragged  me 
home,  never  lettin'  go  my  collar,  till  we  got  into  the  room 
where  mother  was  settin'  up  for  us.  Then  he  told  Aer,  only 
makin'  it  ten  times  harder  'n  it  really  was.  Mother  always 
kind  o»  liked  Rachel,  'cause  she  was  mighty  handy  at  sewin» 
an'  quiltin',  but  she  'd  no  more  dared  stan'  up  agin  father 
than  a  sheep  agin  a  bull-dog.  She  looked  at  me  pityin'-like, 
I  must  say,  an'  jist  begun  to  cry — an'  I  couldn't  help  cryin' 
nuther,  when  I  saw  how  it  hurt  her. 

"  Well,  after  that,  't  wa'n't  no  use  thinkin'  o'  Rachel  any 
more.  I  had  to  go  t'  Old  Jones's,  whether  I  wanted  to  or 
no.  I  felt  mighty  mean  when  I  thought  o'  Rachel,  an'  was 
afeard  no  good  'd  come  of  it ;  but  father  jist  managed  things 
his  way,  an'  I  couldn't  help  myself.  Old  Jones  had  nothin' 
agin  me,  for  I  was  a  stiddy,  hard-workiu'  feller  as  there  was 
round — an'  Mary  Ann  was  always  as  pleasant  as  could  be, 
then;—yvQ\\  I  oughtn't  to  say  nothin'  agin  her  now;  she's 
had  a  hard  life  of  it,  'long  side  o'  me.    Afore  long  we  were 


4M  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

bespoke,  an*  the  day  set.  Fathei  huriied  things,  when  it 
got  that  fur.  I  don't  think  Rachel  knowed  anything  ahout 
it  till  the  day  afore  the  weddin',  or  mebby  the  very  day 
Old  Mr.  Larrabee  was  the  minister,  an'  there  was  only  the 
two  families  at  the  house,  an'  Miss  Plankerton — her  that 
sewed  for  Mary  Ann.  I  never  felt  so  oneasy  in  my  life, 
though  I  tried  hard  not  to  show  it. 

"  Well,  'twas  all  jist  over,  an'  the  kissin'  about  to  begin, 
when  I  heerd  the  house-door  bu'st  open,  suddent.  I  felt 
my  heart  give  one  jump  right  up  to  the  root  o*  my 
tongue,  an'  then  fell  back  ag'in,  sick  an'  dead-like. 

"  The  parlor-door  flew  open  right  away,  an'  in  come 
Rachel  without  a  bunnet,  an'  her  hair  all  frowzed  by  the 
wind.  She  was  as  white  as  a  sheet,  an'  her  eyes  like  two 
burnin'  coals.  She  walked  straight  through  'em  all  an' 
stood  right  afore  me.  They  was  all  so  taken  aback  that 
they  never  thought  o'  stoppin'  her.  Then  she  kind  o' 
screeched  out — '  Eber  Nicholson,  what  are  you  doin*  ?' 
Her  voice  was  strange  an'  onnatural-like,  an'  I'd  never 
'a'  knowed  it  to  be  hern,  if  I  hadn't  'a'  seen  her.  I 
couldn't  take  my  eyes  off  of  her,  an'  I  couldn't  speak: 
I  jist  stood  there.  Then  she  said  ag'in — '  Eber  Nichol- 
son, what  are  you  doin'  ?  You  are  married  to  me,  in 
the  sight  of  God.  You  belong  to  me  an'  I  to  you,  for- 
ever an'  forever  I"  Then  they  begun  cryin'  out — '  Go 
'way  !'  '  Take  her  away  1'  '  What  d's  she  mean  ?»  an* 
old  Mr.  Larrabee  ketched  hold  of  her  arm.  She  begun 
to  jerk  an'  trirable  all  over ;  she  drawed  in  her  breatb 
in  a  sort  o'  groanin'  way,  awful  to  hear,  an'  then  drop 
ped  down  on  the  floor  in  a  fit.      I  bu'st  out  in  a  teiii 


THB   HAUNTBI)   SHANTT.  4M 

ble  spell  o'  oryin' ; — I  couldn't  'a'  helped  it,  to  save  my 
life." 

The  man  paused,  drew  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes,  and 
then  timidly  looked  at  me.  Seeing  nothing  in  my  face, 
doubtless,  but  an  expression  of  the  profoundest  commisera- 
tion, he  remarked,  with  a  more  assured  voice,  as  if  in  self- 
justification — 

"  It  was  a  pretty  hard  thing  for  a  man  to  go  through 
with,  now,  wasn't  it  ?" 

"  You  may  well  say  that,'*  said  I.  "  Your  story  is  not 
yet  finished,  however.  This  Rachel  Emmons — ^you  say  she 
is  still  living — ^in  what  way  does  she  cause  the  disturb- 
ances ?" 

'*  I'll  tell  you  all  I  know  about  it,"  said  he — "  an»  if 
you  understand  it  th&n^  you're  wiser  'n  I  am.  After  they 
carried  her  home,  she  had  a  long  spell  o»  sickness — come 
near  dyin',  they  said ;  but  they  brought  her  through,  at 
last,  an'  she  got  about  ag'in,  lookin'  ten  year  older.  I  kep' 
out  of  her  sight,  though.  I  lived  awhile  at  Old  Jones's, 
till  I  could  find  a  good  farm  to  rent,  or  a  cheap  un  to  buy. 
I  wanted  to  git  out  o'  the  neighborhood  :  I  was  oneasy  all 
the  time,  bein»  so  near  Rachel.  Her  mother  was  wuss,  an' 
her  father  failin'-like,  too.  Mother  seen  'em  often :  she  was 
as  good  a  neighbor  to  'em  as  she  dared  be.  Well,  I  got 
sort  o*  tii-ed,  an'  went  out  to  Michigan  an'  bought  a  likely 
form.  Old  Jones  giv'  me  a  start.  I  took  Mary  Ann  out, 
an'  we  got  along  well  enough,  a  matter  o'  two  year.  We 
heerd  from  home  now  an'  then.  Rachel's  father  and 
mother  both  died,  about  the  time  we  had  our  first  boy 
— ^him  that    you  seen — au'   she    went  off  to  Toledo,  wf 


49f  AT  HOHB  AND   ABBOAD. 

beerd,  an*  hired  out  to  do  sewin'.  She  was  always  a 
mighty  good  band  at  it,  an'  could  cut  out  as  nice  as  a 
born  manty-maker.  She'd  had  another  fit  after  the  fhne' 
rals,  an'  was  older-lookin*  an'  more  serious  than  ever,  they 
aid. 

"  Well,  Jimmy  was  six  months  old,  or  so,  when  W6 
Degun  to  be  woke  up  every  night  by  his  cryin'.  Nothin' 
leemed  to  be  the  matter  with  him :  he  was  only  fright- 
ened like,  an'  couldn't  be  quieted.  I  heerd  noises  some- 
times— nothin'  like  what  come  afterwards — but  sort  o 
crackin'  an'  snappin',  sich  as  you  hear  in  new  ftirnitur' 
an'  it  seemed  like  somebody  was  in  the  room  ;  but  I 
couldn't  find  nothin'.  It  got  wuss  and  wuss :  Mary  Ann 
was  sure  the  house  was  haunted,  an'  I  had  to  let  her 
go  home  for  a  whole  winter.  When  she  was  away,  it 
went  on  the  same  as  ever — ^not  every  night — sometimes 
not  more  'n  onst  a  week — ^but  so  loud  as  to  wake  me 
up,  reg'lar.  I  sent  word  to  Mary  Ann  to  come  on,  an* 
I'd  sell  out  an'  go  to  Illinois.  Good  perairah  land  was 
cheap  then,  an'  I'd  ruther  go  ftirder  0%  for  the  sake  o' 
quiet. 

"  So  we  pulled  up  stakes  an'  come  out  here :  but  it 
weren't  long  afore  the  noise  foUered  us,  wuss  'n  ever,  an' 
we  found  out  at  last  what  it  was.  One  night  I  woke 
up,  with  my  hair  stan'in'  on  end,  an'  heerd  Rachel  Em- 
mons's voice,  jist  as  you  heerd  it  last  night.  Mary  Ann 
heerd  it  too,  an'  it's  little  peace  she's  giv'  me  sence  that 
time.  An'  so  it's  been  goin'  on  an'  on,  these  eight  or  oine 
year.'' 

"  But,"  I  asked,  "  are  you  sure  she  is  alive  ?    Havi  yoo 


THE   HAUNTED   SHANTT.  4ft^ 

seen  her  since  ?    Have  you  asked  her  to  be  merciful  and 
not  disturb  you  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  with  a  bitterness  of  tone  which  seemed 
quite  to  obliterate  the  softer  memories  of  his  love,  "  I've 
seen  her,  an'  I've  begged  her  on  my  knees  to  let  me  alone ; 
but  it's  no  use.  When  it  got  to  be  so  bad  I  couldn't  stan' 
•t,  I  sent  her  a  letter,  but  I  never  got  no  answer.  Next 
year,  when  our  second  boy  died,  frightenod  and  worried  to 
death,  I  believe,  though  he  was  scrawny  enough  when  he 
was  Dom,  I  took  some  money  I'd  saved  to  buy  a  yoke  of 
oxen,  an'  went  t(\  Toledo  o'  purpose  to  see  Rachel.  It  cut 
me  awful  to  do  it,  but  I  was  desprit.  I  found  her  livin'  in 
a  little  house,  with  a  bit  o*  garden,  she'd  bought.  I  s'pose 
she  must  'a'  had  five  or  six  hundred  dollars  when  the  farm 
was  sold,  an'  she  made  a  good  deal  by  sewin',  besides.  She 
was  settin'  at  her  work  when  I  went  in,  an'  knowed  me  at 
oust,  though  I  don't  believe  I'd  ever  'a'  knowed  her.  She 
was  old,  an'  thin,  an'  hard-lookin' ;  her  mouth  was  pale  an' 
sot,  like  she  was  bitin'  somethin'  all  the  time ;  an'  her  eyes, 
though  they  was  sunk  into  her  head,  seemed  to  look  through 
an'  through  an'  away  out  th'  other  side  o'  you. 

"  It  jist  shut  me  up  when  she  looked  at  me.  She  was  so 
corpse-like  I  was  afraid  she'd  drop  dead,  then  and  there : 
but  I  made  out  at  last  to  say,  '  Rachel,  I've  come  all  the 
way  from  Illinois  to  see  you.'  She  kep'  lookin'  straight  at 
me,  never  sayin'  a  word.  '  Rachel,'  says  I,  '  I  know  I've 
acted  bad  towards  you.  God  knows  I  didn't  mean  to  do  it. 
I  don't  blame  you  for  payin'  it  back  to  me  the  way  you're 
doin',  but  Mary  Ann  an'  the  boy  never  done  you  no  harm. 
I've  come  aU  the  way  o'  purpose  to  ask  your  forgivenest^ 


498  MX  BOMB  AND   ABSOAD. 

hopin'  you'll  be  satisfied  with  what's  been  done,  an*  leave  off 
bearin'  malice  agin  us.'  She  looked  kind  o'  sorrowful-like, 
but  drawed  a  deep  breath,  an'  shuck  her  head.  *0h, 
Rachel,'  says  I — an'  afore  I  knowed  it  I  was  right  down  on 
my  knees  at  her  feet — '  Rachel,  don't  be  so  hard  on  ma 
I'm  the  onhappiest  man  that  lives.  I  can't  stan'  it  no 
longer.  Rachel,  you  didn't  use  to  be  so  cruel,  when  wf 
was  boys  an'  girls  together.  Do  forgive  me,  an'  leave  off 
hauntin'  me  so.' 

"  Then  she  spoke  up,  at  last,  an'  says  she — 

"  '  Eber  Nicholson,  I  was  married  to  yQU,  in  the  sight  o* 
God!' 

"  '  I  know  it,'  says  I ;  '  you  say  it  to  me  every  night ;  an' 
it  wasn't  my  doin's  that  you're  not  my  wife  now :  but, 
Rachel,  if  I'd  'a'  betrayed  you,  an'  ruined  you,  an'  killed 
you,  God  couldn't  'a'  pimished  me  worse  than  you're  a-pun* 
ishin'  me.' 

"  She  giv'  a  kind  o'  groan,  an*  two  tears  run  down  her 
white  face.  *  Eber  Nicholson,'  says  she,  *  ask  God  to  help 
you,  for  I  can't.  There  might  'a'  been  a  time,'  says  she, 
'  when  I  could  'a'  done  it,  but  it's  too  late  now.' 

"  *  Don't  say  that,  Rachel,'  says  I ;  *it'8  never  too  late  to 
be  merciful  an'  forgivin'.' 

" '  It  doesn't  depend  on  myself,'  says  she ;  *  I'm  sent  to 
jrou.  It's  th'  only  comfort  I  have  in  life  to  be  near  you ; 
but  I'd  give  up  that,  if  I  could.  Pray  to  God  to  let  me 
die,  for  then  we  shall  both  have  rest.' 

"An'  that  was  all  I  could  git  out  of  her. 

"  I  come  home  ag'in,  knowin'  I'd  spent  my  money  foi 
nothin'.    Sence  then,  it's  been  jist  the  same  as  before    nol 


THX  HAUNTED  SHANTT.  499 

regular  every  night,  but  sort  o'  comes  on  by  spells,  an'  then 
stops  three  or  four  days,  an'  then  comes  on  ag'in.  Fact  is, 
what's  the  use  o'  livin'  in  this  way  ?  We  can't  be  neigh- 
borly ;  we're  afeard  to  have  anybody  come  to  see  us ;  we've 
get  no  peace,  no  comfort  o'  bein'  together,  an'  no  heart  to 
work  an'  git  ahead,  like  other  folks.  It*8  jist  killin'  me 
body  an'  soul." 

Here  the  poor  wretch  fairly  broke  down,  bursting  sud- 
denly into  an  uncontrollable  fit  of  weeping.  I  waited  qui- 
etly until  the  violence  of  his  passion  had  subsided.  A 
misery  so  strange,  so  completely  out  of  the  range  of  human 
experience,  so  hopeless  apparently,  was  not  to  be  reached 
by  the  ordinary  utterances  of  consolation.  I  had  seen 
enough  to  enable  me  fully  to  understand  the  fearful  nature 
of  the  retribution  which  had  been  visited  upon  him  for  what 
was,  at  worst,  a  weakness  to  be  pitied,  rather  than  a  sin 
to  be  chastised.  "  Never  was  a  man  worse  punished,"  he 
had  truly  said.  But  I  was  as  far  as  ever  from  comprehend- 
ing the  secret  of  those  nightly  visitations.  The  statement 
of  Rachel  Emmons,  that  they  were  now  produced  without 
her  will,  overturned — supposing  it  to  be  true — the  con- 
jecture which  I  might  otherwise  have  adopted.  However, 
it  was  now  plain  that  the  unhappy  victim  sobbing  at  my 
side  could  throw  no  further  light  on  the  mystery.  He  had 
told  me  all  he  knew. 

"My  friend,"  said  I,  when  he  had  become  calmer,  "I 
do  not  wonder  at  your  desperation.  Such  continual  tor- 
ment as  you  must  have  endured  is  enough  to  drive  a  man 
to  madness.  It  seems  to  me  to  spring  from  the  malice  of 
Bome  infernal  power,  rather  than  the  righteous  justioe  at 


ffOO  AT  BOMB  AND   ABROAD. 

God.  Have  yo  i  never  tried  to  resist  it  ?  Have  you  nevM 
called  aloud,  in  your  heart,  for  Divine  help,  and  gathered 
up  your  strength  to  meet  and  defy  it,  as  you  would  to  meet 
a  man  who  threatened  your  life  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  right  way,  I'm  afeard,*'  said  he.  "  Fact  ia, 
[  always  tuck  it  as  a  judgment  hangin'  over  me,  an'  noTer 
thought  o'  nothin'  else  than  jist  to  grin  and  bear  it.'* 

"  Enough  of  that,'*  I  urged — ^for  a  hope  of  relief  had  sug- 
gested itself  to  me ;  "  you  have  suffered  enough,  and  more 
than  enough.  Now  stand  up  to  meet  it  like  a  man.  When 
the  noises  come  again,  think  of  what  you  have  endured,  and 
let  it  make  you  indignant  and  determined.  Decide  in  your 
heart  that  you  will  be  free  from  it,  and  perhaps  you  may 
be  so.  If  not,  build  another  shanty  and  sleep  away  from 
your  wife  and  boy,  so  that  they  may  escape,  at  least.  Give 
yourself  this  claim  to  your  wife*s  gratitude,  and  she  will  be 
kind  and  forbearing." 

"  I  don*t  know  but  you're  more  'n  half  right,  stranger,* 
he  replied,  in  a  more  cheerful  tone.  "Fact  is,  I  never 
thought  on  it  that  way.  It's  lightened  my  heart  a  heap, 
tellin'  you ;  an'  if  I'm  not  too  broke  an'  used-up-like,  I'll  try 
to  foller  your  advice.  I  couldn't  marry  Rachel  now,  if 
Mary  Ann  was  dead,  we've  been  druv  so  fur  apart.  I  don't 
know  how  it'll  be  when  we're  all  dead :  I  s'pose  them  *1] 
go  together  that  belongs  together ;  leastways,  't  ought  to 
be  so.'* 

Here  we  struck  the  Bloomington  road,  and  I  no  longer 
needed  a  guide.  When  we  pulled  our  horses  around  facing 
each  othe?,  I  noticed  that  the  flush  of  excitement  still  burned 
on  the  man's  sallow  cheek,  and  his  eyes,  washed  by  pro 


THB   HAUNTED   SHANTY.  601 

bably  the  first  freshet  of  feeling  which  had  moistened  them 
for  years,  shone  with  a  faint  lustre  of  courage. 

"  No,  no — none  o'  that !»  said  he,  as  I  was  taking  out 
my  porte-monnaie ;  "  you've  done  me  a  mighty  sight  mor« 
good  than  I've  done  you,  let  alone  payin'  me  to  boot 
Don»t  forgit  the  turn  to  the  left,  after  cro8sin»  Jackson's 
Run.    Good-bye,  stranger !     Take  good  keer  o'  yourself!" 

And  with  a  strong,  clinging,  lingering  grasp  of  the  hand, 
in  which  the  poor  fellow  expressed  the  gratitude  which  he 
was  too  shy  and  awkward  to  put  into  words,  we  parted. 
He  turned  his  horse's  head,  and  slowly  plodded  back  through 
the  mud  towards  the  lonely  shanty. 

On  my  way  to  Bloomington,  I  went  over  and  over  the 
man's  story,  in  memory.  The  facts  were  tolerably  clear 
and  coherent :  his  narrative  was  simple  and  credible  enough, 
after  my  own  personal  experience  of  the  mysterious  noises, 
and  the  secret,  whatever  it  was,  must  be  sought  for  in 
Rachel  Emmons.  She  was  still  living  in  Toledo,  Ohio,  he 
said,  and  earned  her  living  as  a  seamstress ;  it  would,  there- 
fore, not  be  difficult  to  find  her.  I  confess,  after  his  own 
unsatisfactory  interview,  I  had  little  hope  of  penetrating 
her  singular  reserve ;  but  I  felt  the  strongest  desire  to  see 
her,  at  least,  and  thus  test  the  complete  reality  of  a  story 
which  surpassed  the  wildest  fiction.  After  visiting  Terre 
Haute,  the  next  point  to  which  business  called  me,  on  the 
homeward  route,  was  Cleveland  ;  and  by  giving  an  addi- 
tional day  to  the  journey,  I  could  easily  take  Toledo  on  my 
way.  Between  memory  and  expectation  the  time  passed 
rapidly,  and  a  week  later  I  registered  my  name  at  th« 
Island  House,  Toledo. 


502  AT    HOME     AND     ABROAD. 

After  wandering  about  for  an  hour  or  two,  the  next 
morning,  I  finally  discovered  the  residence  of  Rachel  Em- 
mons. It  was  a  small  story-and-a-half  frame  building,  on 
the  western  edge  of  the  town,  with  a  locust-tree  in  front, 
two  lilacs  inside  the  paling,  and  a  wilderness  of  cabbage- 
stalks  and  currant-bushes  in  the  rear.  After  much  cogita- 
tion, I  had  not  been  able  to  decide  upon  any  plan  of  action, 
and  the  interval  between  my  knock  and  the  opening  of  the 
door  was  one  of  considerable  embarrassment  to  me.  A 
small,  plumpish  woman  of  forty,  with  peaked  nose,  black 
eyes,  and  but  two  upper  teeth,  confronted  me.  She,  cer- 
tainly, was  not  the  one  I  sought. 

"  Is  your  name  Rachel  Emmons  ?"  I  asked,  nevertheless. 

"  No,  I'm  not  her.     This  is  her  house,  though." 

"  Will  you  tell  her  a  gentleman  wants  to  see  her  ?"  said 
I,  putting  my  foot  inside  the  door  as  I  spoke.  The  room, 
I  saw,  was  plainly,  but  neatly  furnished.  A  rag-carpet 
covered  the  floor ;  green  rush-bottomed  chairs,  a  settee 
with  chintz  cover,  and  a  straight-backed  rocking-chair  were 
distributed  around  the  walls ;  and  for  ornament  there  was 
an  alphabetical  sampler  in  a  frame,  over  the  low  wooden 
mantel-piece. 

The  woman,  however,  still  held  the  door-knob  in  her 
hand,  saying,  "  Miss  Emmons  is  busy.  She  can't  well  leave 
her  work.    Did  you  want  some  sewin'  done  ?'' 

"  No,"  said  I ;  "  I  wish  to  speak  with  her.  It's  on  pri 
vate  and  particular  business.'' 

"  Well,"  she  answered  with  some  hesitation,  "  I'll  teU  hei 
Take  a  cheer." 

She  disappeared  through  a  door  into  a  back  room,  and  J 


THE  HAUNTED  SHANTY.  503 

sat  down.  In  another  minute  the  door  noiselessly  reopened, 
and  Rachel  Emmons  came  softly  into  the  room.  I  believe 
I  should  have  known  her  anywhere.  Though  from  Eber 
Nicholson's  narrative  she  could  not  have  been  much  over 
thirty,  she  appeared  to  be  at  least  forty-five.  Her  hair  was 
streaked  with  gray,  her  face  thin  and  of  an  unnatural  waxy 
pallor,  her  lips  of  a  whitish-blue  color  and  tightly  pressed 
together,  and  her  eyes,  seemingly  sunken  far  back  in  their 
orbits,  burned  with  a  strange,  ghastly — I  had  almost  said 
phosphorescent — flight.  I  remember  thinking  they  must 
uhine  like  touch-wood  in  the  dark,  I  have  come  in  contact 
with  too  many  persons,  passed  through  too  wide  a  range 
of  experience,  to  lose  my  self-possession  easily ;  but  I  could 
not  meet  the  cold,  steady  gaze  of  those  eyes  without  a 
strong  internal  trepidation.  It  would  have  been  the  same, 
if  I  had  known  nothing  about  her. 

She  was  probably  surprised  at  seeing  a  stranger,  but  I 
could  discern  no  trace  of  it  in  her  face.  She  advanced  but 
a  few  steps  into  the  room,  and  then  stopped,  waiting  for  me 
to  speak. 

"  You  are  Rachel  Emmons  ?"  I  asked,  since  a  commence- 
ment of  some  sort  must  be  made. 

"Yes." 

"  I  come  from  Eber  Nicholson,*'  said  I,  fixmg  my  eyes  on 
her  face. 

Not  a  muscle  moved,  not  a  nerve  quivered,  but  I  fancied 
that  a  faint  purple  flush  played  for  an  instant  under  the 
?rhite  mask.  If  I  were  correct,  it  was  but  momentary. 
She  lifted  her  left  hand  slow.y,  pressed  it  on  her  heart, 
and  then  let  it  &11.    The  motion  was  so  calm  that  I  should 


5M  AT  HOHB  AND   ABBOAOw 

not  have  noticed  it,  if  I  had  not  been  watching  her  M 
steadily. 

"  Well  ?"  she  said,  after  a  pause. 

"Rachel  Emmons,"  said  I, — and  more  than  one  cause 
conspired  to  make  my  voice  earnest  and  authoritative, — "  1 
know  all.  I  come  to  you  not  to  meddle  with  the  sorrow — 
let  me  say  the  sin — which  has  blighted  your  life ;  not  be- 
cause Eber  Nicholson  sent  me ;  not  to  defend  him  or  to 
accuse  you ;  but  from  that  solemn  sense  of  duty  which 
makes  every  man  responsible  to  God  for  what  he  does  or 
leaves  undone.  An  equal  pity  for  him  and  for  you  forces 
me  to  speak.  He  cannot  plead  his  cause ;  you  cannot  un- 
derstand his  misery.  I  will  not  ask  by  what  wonderful 
power  you  continue  to  torment  his  life ;  I  will  not  even 
doubt  that  you  pity  while  you  afflict  him ;  but  I  ask  you  to 
reflect  whether  the  selfishness  of  your  sorrow  may  not  have 
hardened  your  heart,  and  blinded  you  to  that  consolation 
which  God  offers  to  those  who  humbly  seek  it.  You  say 
that  you  are  married  to  Eber  Nicholson,  in  His  sight. 
Think,  Rachel  Emmons,  think  of  that  moment  when  you 
will  stand  before  His  awful  bar,  and  the  poor,  broken,  suf 
fering  soul,  whom  your  forgiveness  might  still  make  yours 
in  the  holy  marriage  of  heaven,  shrinks  from  you  with  fear 
and  pain,  as  in  the  remembered  pereeoutions  of  earth !" 

The  words  came  hot  from  my  very  heart,  and  the  ice- 
crust  of  years  under  which  hers  lay  benumbed  gave  way 
before  them.  She  trembled  slightly;  and  the  same  sad, 
hopeless  moan  which  I  had  heard  at  midnight  in  the  Illinois 
shanty  came  from  her  lips.  She  sank  into  a  chair,  letting 
her  hands  &11  heavily  at  her  side.    There  was  no  moye 


THB   HAUNT£D   SHANTT.  MM 

moit  of  her  features,  yet  I  saw  that  her  waxy  cheeks  wew 
moist,  as  with  the  slow  ooze  of  tears  so  long  unshed  that 
they  had  forgotten  their  natural  flow. 

"  I  do  pity  him,"  she  murmured  at  last,  *'  and  I  helieve  I 
forgive  him ;  but,  oh !  I've  become  an  instrument  of  wrath 
for  the  punishment  of  both." 

If  any  feeling  of  reproof  still  lingered  in  my  mind,  hei 
appearance  disarmed  me  at  once.  I  felt  nothing  but  pity 
for  her  forlorn,  helpless  state.  It  was  the  apathy  of  des. 
pair,  rather  than  the  coldness  of  cherished  malice,  which 
had  so  frozen  her  life.  Still,  the  mystery  of  those  nightly 
persecutions  I 

"  Rachel  Emmons,"  I  SMd,  "  you  certainly  know  that  yon 
stiU  continue  to  destroy  the  peace  of  Eber  Nicholson  and 
his  family.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  cannot  cease  to 
do  so,  if  you  would  ?" 

"  It  is  too  late,"  said  she,  shaking  her  head  slowly,  as  she 
clasped  both  hands  hard  against  her  breast.  "  Do  you  think 
I  would  suffer,  night  after  night,  if  I  could  help  it  ?  Have- 
n't I  stayed  awake  for  days,  tiU  my  strength  gave  way, 
rather  than  fall  asleep,  for  his  sake  ?  Wouldn't  I  give  my 
life  to  be  free  ? — and  would  have  taken  it,  long  ago,  with 
my  own  hands,  but  for  the  sin  !" 

She  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  but  with  a  wild  earnestness 
which  startled  me.    She,  then,  was  equally  a  victim  I 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  this  thing  had  a  beginning.  Why  did 
you  visit  him  in  the  first  place,  when,  perhaps,  you  might 
have  prevented  it  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  that  was  my  sin,"  she  replied,  "  and  this  is 
(he  punishment.     When  father  and  mother  died,  and  I  w«f 


M6  AT  BOMS   Ain>  ABROAD. 

layin'  sick  and  weak,  with  nothin'  to  do  but  think  of  Attn, 
and  me  all  alone  in  the  world,  and  not  knowin'  how  to  live 
without  him,  because  I  had  nobody  left, — ^that's  when  it 
begun.  When  the  deadly  kind  o'  sleeps  came  on — ^they 
used  to  think  I  was  dead,  or  feintin*,  at  first — and  I  could 
go  where  my  heart  drawed  me,  and  look  at  him  away  off 
where  he  lived,  *twas  consolin',  and  I  didn't  try  to  stop  it. 
I  used  to  long  for  the  night,  so  I  could  go  and  be  near  him 
for  an  hour  or  two.  I  don't  know  how  I  went ;  it  seemed 
to  oome  of  itself.  After  a  while  I  felt  I  was  troublin'  him 
and  doin'  no  good  to  myself,  but  the  sleeps  came  just  the 
same  as  ever,  and  then  I  couldnt  help  myself.  They're 
only  a  sorrow  to  me  now,  but  I  s'pose  I  shall  have  'em  till 
I'm  laid  in  my  grave." 

This  was  all  the  explanation  she  could  give.  It  was  evi- 
dently one  of  those  mysterious  cases  of  spiritual  disease 
which  completely  baffle  our  reason.  Although  compelled 
to  accept  her  statement,  I  felt  incapable  of  suggesting  any 
remedy.  I  could  only  hope  that  the  abnormal  condition 
into  which  she  had  fallen  might  speedily  wear  out  her  vital 
ener^es,  already  seriously  shattered.  She  informed  me, 
further,  that  each  attack  was  succeeded  by  great  exhaus* 
tion,  and  that  she  felt  herself  growing  feebler,  from  year 
to  year.  The  immediate  result,  I  suspected,  was  a  disease 
of  the  heart,  which  might  give  her  the  blessing  of  death 
sooner  than  she  hoped.  Before  taking  leave  of  her,  I  sucv 
oeeded  in  procuring  from  her  a  promise  that  she  would 
write  to  Eber  Nicholson,  giving  him  that  free  forgiveness 
which  would  at  least  ease  bis  conscience,  and  make  his  bur- 
den somewhat  lighter  to  bear.  Then,  feeling  that  it  was  not 


THB  HAUNTED  BHASTT.  50V 

m  my  power  to  do  more,  I  rose  to  depart.  Taking  hef 
hand,  which  lay  cold  <ind  passive  in  mine, — so  much  like  a 
dead  hand  that  it  required  a  strong  effort  in  me  to  repress 
a  nervous  shudder, — I  said,  "  Farewell,  Rachel  Emmona^ 
and  remember  that  they  who  seek  peace  in  the  right  spirit 
will  always  find  it  at  last." 

*'  It  won't  be  many  years  before  I  find  it,"  she  replied, 
calmly ;  and  the  weird,  supernatural  light  of  her  eyes  shone 
upon  me  for  the  last  time. 

I  reached  New  York  in  due  time,  and  did  not  fail,  sitting 
around  the  broiled  oysters  and  celery,  with  my  partners,  to 
repeat  the  story  of  the  Haunted  Shanty.  I  knew,  before- 
hand, how  they  would  receive  it ;  but  the  ciroum8tance!> 
had  taken  such  hold  of  my  mind, — so  burned  me,  like  a 
boy's  money,  to  keep  buttoned  up  in  the  pocket, — that  I 
could  no  more  help  telling  the  tale  than  the  man  I  remem- 
ber reading  about,  a  great  while  ago,  in  a  poem  called 
"The  Ancient  Mariner."  Beeson,  who,  I  suspect,  don'1 
believe  much  of  anything,  is  always  apt  to  carry  his  rail- 
lery too  &r ;  and  thenceforth,  whenever  the  drum  of  a  tar- 
get-company, marching  down  Broadway,  passed  the  head 
of  our  street,  he  would  whisper  to  me,  "  There  comes  Ra- 
chel Emmons !''  until  I  finally  became  angry,  and  insisted 
that  the  subject  should  never  again  be  mentioned. 

But  I  none  the  less  recalled  it  to  my  mind,  firom  time  to 
time,  with  a  singular  interest.  It  was  the  one  supernatural, 
or,  at  least,  inexplicable  experience  of  my  life,  and  I  con- 
tinued to  feel  a  profound  curiosity  with  regard  to  the  two 
principal  characters.  My  slight  endeavor  to  assist  them  by 
TOch  counsel  as  had  suggested  itself  to  me  was  actuated  bj 


508  AT   BOMB   AND   ABROAD. 

the  purest  human  sympathy,  and  upon  further  reflection  1 
eould  discover  no  other  means  of  help.  A  spiritual  disease 
oould  be  cured  only  by  spiritual  medicine, — unless,  indeed, 
the  secret  of  Rachel  Emmons's  mysterious  condition  lay  in 
gome  permanent  dislocation  of  the  relation  between  soul  and 
body,  which  could  terminate  only  with  their  final  separation. 

With  the  extension  of  our  business,  and  the  increasing 
calls  upon  my  time  during  my  Western  journeys,  it  was 
three  years  before  I  again  found  myself  in  Toledo,  with 
sufficient  leisure  to  repeat  my  visit.  I  had  some  difficulty  in 
finding  the  little  frame  house  ;  for,  although  it  was  unalter- 
ed in  every  respect,  a  number  of  stately  brick  "  villas"  had 
sprung  up  around  it  and  quite  disguised  the  locality.  The 
door  was  opened  by  the  same  little  black-eyed  woman,  with 
the  addition  of  four  artificial  teeth,  which  were  altogether 
too  large  and  loose.  They  were  attached  by  plated  hooks 
to  her  eye-teeth,  and  moved  up  and  down  when  she  spoke. 

*'  Is  Rachel  Emmons  at  home  ?"  I  asked. 

The  woman  stared  at  me  in  evident  surprise. 

•*  She's  dead,"  said  she,  at  last,  and  then  added, — "  let^s 
see, — a'n't  you  the  gentleman  that  called  here,  some  three 
or  four  years  ago  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  entering  the  room ;  "  I  should  like  to  hear 
about  her  death.'' 

'*  Well, — Hwas  rather  queer.  She  was  failin'  when  you 
was  here.  After  that  she  got  softer  and  weaker-like,  an' 
didn't  have  her  deathlike  wearin'  sleeps  so  often,  but  she 
went  just  as  fast  for  all  that.  The  doctor  said  'twas  heart- 
disease,  and  the  nerves  was  gone,  too ;  so  he  only  giv'  hei 
morphy,  and  iometimes  pills,  but  he  knowed   she'd  no 


THE  HAUKTED   SHANTY.  509 

dianoe  from  the  first.  'Twas  a  year  ago  last  May  when 
she  died.  She'd  been  confined  to  her  bed  about  a  week, 
but  I'd  no  thought  of  her  goin'  so  soon.  I  was  settin'  up 
with  her,  and  'twas  a  little  past  midnight,  maybe.  She'd 
been  layin'  like  dead  awhile,  an'  I  was  thinkin'  I  could 
snatch  a  nap  befiare  she  woke.  All 't  oust  she  riz  right  u} 
in  bed,  with  her  eyes  wide  open,  an'  her  face  lookin'  real 
happy,  an'  called  out,  loud  and  strong, — 'Farewell,  Eber 
Nicholson  !  farewell !  I've  come  for  the  last  time !  There'e 
peace  for  me  in  heaven,  an'  peace  for  you  on  earth 
Farewell !  farewell !'  Then  she  dropped  back  on  the  piller, 
stone-dead.  She'd  expected  it,  't  seems,  and  got  the  doc- 
tor to  write  her  will.  She  left  me  this  house  and  lot, — I'm 
her  second  cousin  on  the  mother's  side, — but  all  her  money  in 
the  Savin's  Bank,  six  hundred  and  seventy-nine  dollars  and  a 
halfi  to  Eber  Nicholson.  The  doctor  writ  out  to  Illinois,  an' 
found  he'd  gone  to  Kansas,  a  year  before.  So  the  money's 
in  bank  yit ;  but  I  s'pose  he'll  git  it,  some  time  or  other." 

As  I  returned  to  the  hotel,  conscious  of  a  melancholy 
pleasure  at  the  news  of  her  death,  I  could  not  help  wonder- 
ing,— "  Did  he  hear  that  last  farewell,  far  away  in  his  Kan- 
sas cabin  ?  Did  he  hear  it,  and  fall  asleep  with  thanksgiv- 
ing in  his  heart,  and  arise  in  the  morning  to  a  liberated 
life  ?"  I  have  never  visited  Kansas,  nor  have  I  ever  heard 
from  him  since ;  but  I  know  that  the  living  ghost  which 
haunted  him  is  laid  for  ever. 

Reader,  you  will  not  believe  my  story ;  but  rr  is  tbxte. 

THIE  £in>. 


Ul/oD    LlDi\ni\jL 


A     000  525  450 


